Moonlit Midnight
by Croik
Summary: After the anime, Celas learns that being a vampire in mating season ain't all it's cracked up to be. And she isn't the only one... spoilers and warnings for violence, language, and rapant sexual innuendo
1. Default Chapter

Hellsing, and all it's characters, are property of someone else, and I'm using them without permission.  Sorry!

This fic is mostly about Celas, post anime series so beware of spoilers, with some violence in the later chapters and sexual innuendo just popping out everywhere!  But just innuendo, for the most part.

Enjoy!

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**Moonlit Midnight**

Chapter One:  Unexpected Visitations

Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing could not hide the tiny, relieved smile that flickered over her lips as she slipped into her familiar leather office chair.  The contours still fit perfectly to her weary body, and she could still smell the leftover fragrance of her favorite cigars.  Her office had been meticulously cleaned in her absence—by Walter, judging by the arrangement of her desktop items—and a few things replaced, but she would take note of them later.  For now, sitting here in her usual stiff uniform, in a room she had missed, suffering the same creeping fatigue brought on by a trying day's hardships…it felt as if nothing had changed, and she was inexplicably happy.

From the doorway, Walter observed her satisfaction with a carefully concealed smile of his own. "Will you be needing anything, Lady Integra?" he asked with a subtle bow.

"No, Walter.  I'll be retiring soon."  Integra sat up a bit straighter, glancing briefly over the stack of papers that had been left for her.  All her instincts instructed that her attention be devoted to the many reports in full—the rest of her rebelled.  "This may be work for the evening.  It's been a long night."

Walter nodded.  "I am relieved to hear as much.  In that case, I will have your room prepared, and a bath drawn, if you so require."

"Yes, I would appreciate it."  She rubbed vaguely at the freshly healed scar that ran along her throat.  "I'll be there shortly.  Please make sure no one disturbs me."

"Yes, Lady Integra."  Walter bowed, and departing, softly closed the office door behind him.

Integra sighed quietly and allowed herself to relax once more.  It was quiet here—the kind of still quiet she had not found in a prison cell for the past four weeks.  In the end it had taken all her political connections and a dangerously played display on Alucard's part to convince the Parliament of her institute's necessity.  Even now their complete funding had not been restored, and in all likelihood would not be in the foreseeable future.  

"It seems our Institute is once again dependant on civilians," Integra murmured, sifting half-heartedly through the top stack of papers.  She let them fall from her hands with a quiet sigh.  "Not today, not today."

"Certainly not on your first day home."

Integra did not even glance up at first—she had been expecting him to show up sooner or later.  She snorted quietly.  "It's ironic," she remarked, "that after how adamantly I defended my ability to kill vampires, I am welcomed home by one."

Alucard chuckled, his deep voice echoing as he stepped into form beside her desk.  Hat and glasses shed, he fixed her with a crooked grin.  "The place was quiet without you," he informed her.

"As it should be.  Though I don't suppose you came up here just to tell me that."  She waved a hand vaguely at the window.  "It's almost dawn."

"I wanted to warn you," he replied.  His eyes thinned subtly as he enjoyed some private joke.

Integra snorted, about to demand an explanation when her desk phone rang.  She easily caught Alucard's triumphant expression as she lifted the receiver to her ear.  "This is Hellsing," she stated briskly.  It certainly was an inconvenient time for someone to call—not even five in the morning.

"It's good to finally hear your voice, Integra," the other end spoke, and Integra's fingers tightened reflexively.  She glared sharply at Alucard, which gained her only an insolent grin in return.

"Perhaps I was a little late," the vampire admitted.

"This is no business of yours," she hissed in reply, for a moment forgetting the receiver at her mouth.  The man's chuckle quickly reminded her.  "Not you, Zimmerman."

"That's some way to great an old friend," he accused.  "Is that Alucard with you?  Send him my regards."

"That won't be necessary."  Integra transferred her attention back to Alucard, her gaze lethal.

Alucard chuckled, all too amused as he stepped away from the desk.  "Very well, my master.  I await your next orders."  Ironic grin still in place, he vanished into the gradually diminishing shadows.

Having waited patiently on the line, Jacob Zimmerman cleared his throat.  "I hope this isn't a bad time," he offered.  "I heard you'd been released, and I knew I wouldn't be able to catch you after the sun was up."

Integra sank into her chair, wishing suddenly for a cigar.  There was something about speaking to this man that always made her crave a smoke; sometimes just thinking of him.  "It's all right, Jacob; I'm just tired.  I won't be much of a conversation partner to you."

"Understandably," he conceded.  "You should know, everyone here in Washington heard about what happened—at least, what is assumed.  It wasn't until we heard about your being taken into custody that we knew about the vampires."

"It wasn't vampires," Integra contradicted.  She was growing tired of these explanations.  "Come on, Jacob, you know better than that.  Alucard took care of it—there's nothing left to talk about on the matter."

"Of course."  Despite herself, Integra smiled—she could almost imagine the thoughtful look that must have accompanied his tone of voice.  "Which is part of the reason I called.  You see, my superiors have authorized a mission to London—to bring relief to your institute."

Integra's eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the weight in those words.  "Mithril 6 is coming here?"  She snorted incredulously.  "No offense, Jacob, but Hellsing has survived on its own for a hundred years now.  I appreciate the offer, but again, you should know better."  At last she gave in, digging through her drawer for a cigar and lighter.  "Besides, your boss, Sanfeld, never seems to enjoy himself when I'm around."

Jacob laughed.  "Because you called him a Godless pig-bastard when we were younger."

"Hmph.  And I thought you Americans were used to receiving insults."  She sucked lightly on her cigar; somehow it tasted infinitely richer than from within her cell.  "But honestly, I wish you wouldn't decide these things for yourself," she continued. "I can't accept—"

"A battalion of 30 trained soldiers, 100 rifles with 25 crates silver ammunition, medical supplies, computer equipment?  It's all here, Integra."

Integra leaned forward very slowly, as her mind was spinning.  The kind of aid Jacob was talking about…did not exist.  Not even between fellow institutes; not even between them.  Not for free, anyway.  A dull anger began to swirl in her gut at the thought of her old comrade blatantly using her this way.  "What is it we're really talking about here?" she asked dangerously.

Jacob's tone sobered.  "About getting the Hellsing Institute back on its feet," he replied without falter. "You're in trouble, Integra—even the vampires here can smell it.  You need our help this time.  And I think you already know what we want in return."

Integra pursed her lips slightly.  "Yes, I know."

"In that case, we'll finish this in London," Jacob continued.  "We're not like Iscariot—all we want is to kill vampires, just like you.  And even if it's just this once, maybe we can help each other.  We've even already cleared it with your superiors."  There was a pause at the other end, and Integra bit lightly on the edge of her cigar, dreading what else he might add.  "Besides, I'm looking forward to seeing you again.  It's been almost two years."

"Yes, it has."  Integra released a breath of smoke and watched it curl towards the ceiling.  All those supplies…for the sake of those loyal to her, she could afford to forgo her pride for now.  "All right, I trust you," she decided at last.  "We'll continue this once you've arrived.  But leave Varjak out of this," she added, "or I can't guarantee anything."

Jacob sighed.  "Sorry, but neither can I, where Varjak is concerned.  I don't have the rank.  But we're not coming to start a fight with Hellsing."

Integra snorted; she there was more to this after all.  "Not with Hellsing," she echoed.  "Well, then, you will be well received."  And God help them, if he was lying to her. "I'll meet you this evening, since I assume you meant right away."

"All right."  He chuckled.  "I'm glad you're being reasonable about this.  I'd prepared myself for quite an argument."

"It's been a long night."  Integra tapped her cigar against the desktop ashtray.  Though she would never admit it, she was not entirely adverse to seeing him again, in addition to the temptation of his offers.  "And you've never been able to lie to me, so there's no use debating over it."

"I'm glad you see it that way." Jacob's voice was genuinely pleased, and something about it made her lips curl in a wry smile.  "Tonight, then.  Sweet dreams."  And before she could protest, he had hung up.

Integra sighed, listening to the dial tone a moment before setting the receiver back in its cradle.  Her cigar followed its example a moment later.  Jacob Zimmerman—she had known him since they were children, when both their fathers met in circumstances very similar to these now.  And though both now had succeeded their fathers by nearly a decade, their correspondence had not waned.   There were even occasions, when her mood was favorable, that she could admit to being quite fond of him.

Integra sighed faintly with her reminiscences.  Despite a faint uncertainty she would be admittedly pleased to see him again.  And the sooner his people had come and gone, the sooner Hellsing could return to proper duties.

She left her office just as the sun began to spread its dull stain over the eastern hills, seeking her rest.

----

"You had better wake up, Celas.  You'll miss the show."

Celas Victoria opened her eyes and, predictably enough, was met only with the pitch black of her coffin.  "Master?"  She still had not gotten used to the idea of her Master speaking to her so unexpectedly—with her name, even less.  Whatever she had done to earn that respect from him, she was glad for it.  "What's going on?"  She fumbled for her bed switch, slipping out as soon as there was space for it.  She scratched at the back of her head and yawned.  "Master?" she asked again when no response.

But Alucard did not speak again, and with a blush and a pout Celas changed into her uniform.  As always, Walter had left several candles burning by which to light her way.  "What does he mean, show?" she muttered to herself as she tugged her stockings over her knees.  "Knowing Master, it could be anything.  Even…."  She paled suddenly, and hurried into the rest of her uniform.  It would be just like Alucard to leave only a cryptic message like that when they were under attack, or embarking on some fierce mission.  Trusting that if that were the case her artillery would have been already prepared for her, she dashed out of her room and to the upper levels.

There were no prepared soldiers to greet her once she reached the first floor, no alarms, and—thankfully—no ghouls.  In fact, there was no one.  She easily heard, however, a roar of truck engines, and men's voices shouting.  Slinging her rifle over her shoulder she investigated.

Celas followed her ears outside, and sure enough found her missing comrades.  They were waiting in the front courtyard, Integra at the head with Walter just beside her.  Three enormous trucks were sliding to a halt, lights piercing what would otherwise have been a calm night.  Squinting, Celas ventured into the fray just as men began to pile out of the vehicles.  "Master?" she called softly.  She could not locate him in the crowd.  "What's going on?"

"Company," Alucard's voice came floating back to her, though she could still no determine his location.  Instead she started towards Integra.  "A battalion from Mithril 6."  The vampire's deep laughter filled her ears as if he were at her side.  "American vampire hunters."

"Mithril 6?  I've never heard of them…."  Though admittedly Celas knew very little of America as a whole, except for a few selections of music she caught on the late-night radio.  She watched with great interest as the men began to pile out, each carrying boxes and crates that were handed to the nearest Hellsing officer.  "They're supplies," she mused aloud, catching a glimpse of one of the crates.  The Americans had sent them aid.  "Why?  They're helping us?"  She shivered a little.  "I didn't think Hellsing got along with other institutes."

Again Alucard's voice came to her in a chuckle.  "It doesn't.  Our good Lady makes an exception when this particular institute is concerned."

"Why?"  Celas started forward again, but a gloved hand fell heavily on her shoulder, and she jumped.  She sun about quickly to face the abrupt presence.  "Master, don't scare me," she accused lightly.

"Stay here for now," Alucard instructed her. "These Americans aren't used to working with vampires, and we won't be welcomed."  Smirking in amusement, he indicated for her to look for herself.  "Especially _that_ one."

Celas did look, and was met almost immediately by a pair of pale gray eyes fixated on her.  The woman they belonged to could not have been any older than Celas herself, dressed in a bizarre outfit of baggy jeans, dark T-shirt, and denim vest.  Straggly red hair stuck out from under a wool cap.  She looked like some kind of city punk, by Celas's standards, and she frowned in disapproval.  The woman was glaring at them.  Celas snorted indignantly.  "What's she got to be huffy about?" she muttered.  "Staring at us like that.  We're Hellsing officers, too, after all."  She crossed her arms.  "She doesn't even know us."

"She's the daughter of a priest," Alucard explained.  He was smiling, as if he found the whole concept quite amusing.  "Her father blesses her ammunition for her.  It's rather bothersome."

Celas hummed thoughtfully.  "Have…you fought her, Master?"

"Something like that."

It was not a very descriptive answer, but she knew better than to persist.  Her gaze wandered back over the crowds of soldiers and the supplies they unloaded, landing at last on Integra.  She was shaking the hand of an older man dressed in a dark suit, with another, younger man nearby.  "What about those men?" she asked curiously.

"Mark Sanfeld and Jacob Zimmerman, the commander of Mithril 6 and his assistant.  This entire parade was here about two years ago for a little visit."

"Hmm."  There was something a bit odd about their commander, Celas noticed, when she went to shake Jacob's hand—she seemed more relaxed, less formal.  But she kept her thoughts to herself, not wanting to offend her Master. "You're not going over there?"

"No, I don't think so.  This isn't my concern."  Alucard stepped back, his form fading—and then he was gone.

Celas sighed, wishing she had the luxury of just slipping away. This sentiment only increased when she saw that Integra and her two guests were approaching.  She made a quick effort to fix her appearance.  "Sir," she greeted stiffly.

Integra nodded vaguely.  "Gentlemen," she introduced formally, "this is one of our officers—Celas Victoria.  I'd like you to mention her to your men for while they're here."

The elder man, Mark Sanfeld, was a stout, thick-jawed man with dark hair and a thin mustache.  His eyes bore harshly into Celas as he looked her over.  "I see," was all he said, and the officer in question tried not to cringe beneath his heavy stare.

Brown-haired, clean-shaven Jacob Zimmerman was another matter.  He extended his hand to be shaken, which Celas carefully complied to.  "It's good to see you're on our side, Miss Victoria," he said pleasantly.

"Thank you, sir," she replied crisply.  Though when she thought about it, there was not much else of an alternative.

"You won't have to worry about our men mistaking you for an enemy," Sanfeld added, "as long as they are not provoked."

This time, Celas could not hide her indignation.  "I have no intention of provoking anyone, sir."

"Good.  Then I won't worry about it, either."

Integra glanced between the trio, giving no indication of whether or not she was pleased by their introductions.  "Victoria, you are dismissed.  Assist in unloading the vehicles—Commander Wellerune will give you further instructions."

"Yes, sir."  Celas saluted, and with one last glance at the two Americans trotted off to join the group.

Integra watched her go, taking careful note of the wary stares the girl received from their American guests.  She had expected as much—no other institute in the world would have dared to tame a vampire as their own, let alone two.  She indulged in a momentary feeling of pride before drawing her focus in.  "You needn't worry about Victoria," she told the pair.  "As a vampire, she's harmless."

"I said I wasn't worried," Sanfeld replied shortly.  "She's your responsibility, not ours.  And I think we all have more important concerns."

Hellsing's leader lifted an eyebrow slightly.  "Of course.  Though I never expected you would come yourself, Sir.  I suppose I should be flattered by your concern for our institute."  Her gaze found Jacob—she knew he, at least, would not be able to lie to her.  "Though I suspect you gentlemen have more to tell me."

Jacob swept a thin lock of dark chestnut hair out of his face.  "We do," he conceded.  "But it can wait for a little while.  Best to discuss it by morning."

Integra snorted—she should have known it would be about Alucard.  And though she never liked the idea of hiding things from Hellsing's strongest ally, she trusted the serious expression on Jacob's face.  "Just remember that this is still my Institute," she told them curtly.  "And I do not appreciate being played.  If I don't like what you tell me, I'll pack your trucks back up myself, if I have to."

"Believe me, that won't be necessary," Jacob quickly interjected.  "Let's just worry about helping your men for now."

Still wary, Integra agreed.  "Very well.  At dawn, then."

----

Celas aided in the unloading, her strength coming in handy especially with the larger crates.  Despite her diligent work, she could easily feel the many eyes on her back; some accusing, some curious, some even frightened.  Alucard's words remained with her as she attempted to ignore them.  She had spent so much time around her fellow officers, killing other vampires, that sometimes she forgot she was one of them.  But here, with dozens of eyes fixed on her, their murmurs in her ears…and it was not helping that she had not fed lately.  With London still healing, donated blood to feed vampires was in short supply.

"But then, Master must be having a harder time than me," she murmured under her breath as she made her way to the back of the last truck. "He actually likes…."  Celas trailed off when she saw the last bit of cargo—a freezer, as tall as her, wedged in the corner.  Frowning, she investigated.  As soon as the dull freezer light flooded into the empty truck bed she froze, eyes fixing on racks of crimson-filled plastic bags.  _Blood_….  Unwillingly she licked her lips, and a moment later realized her hand was curled around one of the packets.  She jerked back guiltily.  

"Don't bother," a voice sounded icily behind her.  "They brought it for you, after all."

Celas spun around, angry with herself for letting her preoccupation with the blood interfere with her senses.  Any remark she had planned died on her lips when she realized who it was—the scruffy-looking woman her master had warned her about.  She gulped. "Can I help you?"

The woman sauntered over, her steps heavy like those of a man.  "Go ahead," she prodded, shouldering past Celas to the fridge.  She flicked it open and removed one of the blood packets.  "Sanfeld's lackey is quite the liberalist.  I think he actually likes your kind—brought these as a kind of host gift for Alucard."  She scowled bitterly.

Celas pursed her lips, trying not to look at the item she held.  She didn't quite believe her—Mithril 6 had no reason to pamper vampires, did it?  Even one like Alucard.  It must have been brought for the infirmary, but Celas still found she couldn't take her eyes off it.  "Could you put that away, please?  I'd like to unload it."

But the woman didn't reply, moving her hand deliberately over the plastic seam.  "No one will notice, if one or two are missing."

"Please stop that," Celas said crossly, curling her hands into fists at her sides.  "I have no intention of stealing any, thank you very much."

She snorted, and looked ready to reply when Captain Thorn peered inside.  She slid the packet into her vest front just fast enough to avoid it being seen.  "Are you all right in there?" the captain called tersely.  "We're waiting."

"Ah, I'm very sorry, sir," Celas answered, snapping to attention.  "We'll have it right out."

The captain regarded her curiously a moment, and at last withdrew.  She sighed in relief.  "Now," she continued, "please put that back.  We'll be reprimanded."

The woman snorted in disgust, but tossed the blood bag at her on her way out.  She didn't speak again, but the last gaze she cast was enough to make Celas' flesh crawl.

"Who the hell does she think she is?" Celas muttered once she'd left.  "Assuming things like that.  I might be thirsty, but I'm not…."  She paused, staring down at the plastic container she still held.  If what the American had said was true….there was no need for her to wait, was there?  And the bags weren't labeled…certainly misplacing one would raise no stir.

Despite her denial of the American's stereotype, despite her own better judgment, Celas unbuttoned the front of her uniform and slipped the bag inside.  Once she had concealed it well enough she began to slide the refrigerator towards the truck's exit.  Rationalizing her theft was a simple matter.  Meeting the eyes of her fellows, however, was somewhat different.

----

An hour later, Celas was back in her room; the supplies had been unloaded and distributed, and the officers were enjoying a bit of relaxation before they were made to continue work.  Celas had no heart to join them; she sat on the edge of her bed, focused on the gentle weight against her chest that rose and fell with every breath.  "I shouldn't have," she muttered, poking at the bag idly.  "It's not like I'm a wild animal, is it?  Just because I'm thirsty doesn't mean I'm desperate, after all."

Celas unbuttoned the front of her uniform, and removed the cause of al her worrying.  "It's just blood," she told herself deftly.  "Donated.  For you.  There's no use worrying now about where it came from."  She took a deep breath, but stopped herself once more.  A childish grin spread across her face.  "Maybe…I'll give it to Master.  I wonder if…."  She lifted her head.  "Master?"

As she had nearly expected, a moment later Alucard's familiar voice was in her ears.  "Perhaps you're finally getting used to me spying on you," he teased.  She turned to find him seated at her desk, reclining casually.  He grinned.

Celas smiled to see him in good spirits.  Usually Alucard kept himself rather scarce when the Institute received visitors of any kind; understandably so.  After her experience earlier, Celas was in no hurry to return to duty herself.  "I shouldn't have this," she said hesitantly, offering her crude prize.  "But…would you like some…?  Neither of us have eaten well for a while, after all…."

"Oh?  How generous of you."  The candlelight reflecting off his glasses prevented Celas from seeing his eyes, but she could easily tell the heavy focus of his gaze.  He was just as eager as she was.  And she was almost ashamed to be disappointed when he accepted.  Handing the small meal over, she couldn't help but watch, lips pressed, as he punctured the plastic with his incisors and sucked half the bag dry in one breath.  Amazing…how he could look so dignified even with such an act.

Alucard noticed her lingering stare, and with a soft chuckle offered the last half back to her.  "Your body needs the strength more than mine."

"Master…."  Celas faltered a moment, a bit embarrassed by how blatantly her hunger was showing.  She had vowed not to let her instincts get the better of her, and yet she did not hesitate in accepting the blood, gulping it down.  It wasn't until afterwards that she realized they had drank from the same packet, and she blushed.  "Um…thank you, Master."

Alucard regarded her silently a moment—curiously, his head cocked to the side.  Celas did her beset not to fidget.  Whatever he was thinking, it had stolen a bit of the humor from his expression, and that concerned her more than anything.  At long last he leaned back, smiling once more.  "I don't suppose you've been testing your new powers lately, have you?" he asked.

Celas blinked in confusion.  "Powers…?" she echoed.  She thought briefly about the time she had seen Alucard unleash his power…the few times that she had lost herself in fighting the ghouls…and shuddered.  "Um…."

Alucard pushed to his feet, and without really thinking she did the same—quickly and awkwardly, her weight shifting from foot to foot.  She felt oddly high-strung that evening; though her appetite had been satiated for a while, the blood was too small amount to ease the tension of days gone without.  Certainly that was the cause.

"As a vampire, you should at least know a few tricks," Alucard was saying, moving deliberately to the wall.  "Incognito was the worst we'll see for a while, I'd warrant, but Integra did say to train you properly."  He snorted humorously, as if enjoying some private joke.  He then reached his hand out, sliding it over, then through the stone wall.  

Celas made a doubtful face.  "Master, you don't…really think I can do that…do you?"

"You're of a higher level than those freaks," he replied simply.  "Come here."

Celas obeyed, even if her steps were a bit uncertain, her expression unconvinced.  Under Alucard's instruction she removed her glove and pressed her palm flat against the wall.  But the rock was rough and cold beneath her skin, and no amount of pushing could change that.

Alucard watched her a while —seemingly quite amused, but also scrutinizing—before offering any aid.  "Not even a vampire could budge that rock easily," he told her knowingly.  "You're not trying to enter the wall—you're twisting space.  The wall has nothing to do with it."

Celas' face twisted again.  "Then why am I—"

"Someone once told me it's easier for a new vampire to learn if they start with something solid," Alucard explained.  "If you can see the spell, you can work it more easily."  He snorted quietly.  "It's second nature to me, so I wouldn't know."

Celas frowned, tracing idle shapes in the wall.  She appreciated her Master's help—indeed, was flattered by all this unusual attention he was showing her—but if he was simply bragging….  She pursed her lips and concentrated again.  If she could see the spell…if she could will her hand to pass through….

"Master, I'm no good at this," Celas sighed diffidently.  "I don't know anything about spells and magic."

His gloved hand fell over hers, and she jumped, startled by the feel of rough material against her skin.  Too embarrassed to let him see the sudden blush in her cheeks, she ducked her head.  Alucard was acting very odd that night, coming down here.  Though she should have been pleased, something about having him so close made her stomach dance.

A dull warmth spread through her fingers, and when Celas blinked her sight returned to see only black shadow where her hand had been.  She gasped quietly—she was through the rock.  Eyes wide, she moved her hand slightly, watching as undulating black followed, rippling across the stone.  "Master!" she declared excitedly, stretching and wiggling her fingers.  When Alucard pulled his own hand back, hers stayed.  Thrilled, she withdrew and phased through the wall once more, on her own.  "I did it!  Master, I did it!"

Alucard nodded, watching as she repeated her success several times over.  He stopped her suddenly, pinning her palm against now solid rock.  She gulped, and turned her gaze slowly upward.  "Master…?"

At first no response came, and Celas shifted nervously.  She was about to inquire again when Alucard said, "You're going to have to be careful when you go outside for a while."

Celas frowned, bewildered, as she met his eyes.  "Um…what do you mean?"

Alucard smiled, but it was a strange sort of expression she had not seen on him before.  He almost looked embarrassed, the thought of which was baffling.  "Celas," he began carefully.  "There are a few things I should explain to you."

Celas nodded, transfixed by the odd look her master bore, the gentle pressure on her hand.  "All right," she murmured vaguely.

"For the next two months or so, you're going to be under the influence of what we vampires call Bright Midnight," Alucard explained.  "Your powers will increase, but you should also find yourself craving blood more often."

Celas' face twisted in discontent; the last thing she needed was to become even more desperate than she was now.  Already the thought of blood was making her anxious, and unwillingly her mouth began to water.  She shook her head.  "But why?  What's…happening to me?"

"There's nothing wrong—it's perfectly natural for females, and it only happens about once or twice every few centuries."  Again Alucard paused, and when he tilted his chin up the candlelight reflected oddly against his pale skin.

"Master," Celas accused incredulously, "are you blushing?"

He coughed sharply, withdrawing his hand from hers at last.  Deliberately he removed his glasses so that their eyes could meet—she started a bit at the gesture.  "What it means," he stated, attempting to be serious, "is that your body is fertile."

"Fer...fertile?" Celas echoed.  Her eyes went wide, and without thinking she took a step back.  Whatever she had been expecting, this certainly wasn't it.  Sputtering and confused, she shook her head.  "M-Master, what are you talking about?"

Alucard smiled boyishly.  "Vampires can only conceive children during Bright Midnight," he elaborated.  "Your body wants a child."  He paused, considering.  "You could think of it as being like…a cat in heat."

"A…a cat?"  Celas continued to shake her head.  "This is crazy—this doesn't make sense.  I'm…my body…."  A blush stretched from her face to her ears and all down her neck.  "Couldn't you have said it some other way?"

Despite the awkwardness of their situation, Alucard couldn't help but laugh at her stunned and disgruntled face.  "Maybe.  But do you understand?"

"I…."  Suddenly feeling far too self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her chest.  And she realized, then, the cause of Alucard's attention to her that night.  She ducked her head, shoulders hunching in embarrassment.  "You…."  When her voice squeaked she cleared her throat and tried again.  "But you could tell…?"

He laughed again, mischievously.  "By tomorrow night, every vampire in the city will be able to tell."

"Oh geez…."  Celas covered her face, sure by now that she was glowing.  "You're joking, right?  This…this can't be right."  But when she sought Alucard's expression through her fingers, she knew better than to doubt the subtle humor hidden there.  Alucard didn't lie.  With a groan she leaned back against the wall.  "Why me?  Wait…doesn't that mean…."  She gulped.  "Other vampires will come after me?"

Alucard nodded.  Something was gleaming in his eyes, something…akin to the way he looked before a meal.  "Without fail."

Celas groaned again; by now she was convinced her cheeks would never return to their normal shade.  "I can't believe this," she muttered. "I haven't even been on a date in months—now I'm gonna have vampires crawling all over me?"  The image that produced was too much for her, and with an exaggerated sigh she flopped onto her bed.  "This is not the impression I wanted to give to our new commander…."

Alucard was still smiling, much to her disapproval.  "Which is why I'm warning you."

"Hmm…."  Celas frowned, wondering vaguely exactly how much of an effect her…condition…was having on her master.  As a high level vampire, certainly things like that did not apply to him.  Did they?  "Well," she said, sitting up.  "I guess I should tell Lady Integra." She shuddered at the thought.  "But I can't imagine her—"

"No," Alucard interrupted firmly.  She fell quickly silent beneath the sharp look cast in her direction.  "Don't speak of it."  As if realizing how serious he had sounded just then, his voice softened, and he smiled thinly.  "This is not for humans to know."

"But…won't everyone notice?" Celas asked quietly.  She didn't want to contradict him, but it seemed like a pertinent concern.  "Lady Integra knows a lot about vampires, after all…."

"That's why you have to be careful."  Alucard stepped closer, making sure she made no mistake in his words.  "There are a great many secrets we vampires have kept from humans over the centuries.  It's important that they know no more than we let them."

"I…guess so."  Celas glanced away uncomfortably.  "After all this time, she still had a bit of trouble when he spoke of humans like that—as if she was so much further from them.  It still frightened her, despite her best efforts.  "I'll try.  I really will."  Her eyes thinned.  "Does this mean…when I was able to do the spell just now…that was because I've gained power for now?"

"Probably," Alucard affirmed.  "That spell should have been too difficult for you, as you are now."

"Oh."  The small excitement of her success fled, and she sighed quietly.  "I just…thought I could be some use to you, for once."

Alucard chuckled.  "What are you talking about?"

"Hm?  Oh, nothing.  Nothing at all."  Celas laughed nervously, forcing herself to sit up a bit straighter.  "I guess I'll just have to deal with it, then.  Oh boy…."

Alucard's boots tapped against the stone, and a moment later she felt his hand alight on the top of her head.  She jumped and caught her breath.  "I'll be staying close to you during this," he told her.  "You could say that Bright Midnight brings out the best in all of us.  We'll be putting on quite a show, hm?"  He leaned forward to see her face.

Celas gulped as her ears burned, and she shifted anxiously on the bed.  Alucard hadn't been this close to her since the first night they'd met.  "Um…I guess…." she whispered.

"Alucard smirked and recoiled, allowing her a full breath.  "Well then, I think I'll check on our generous guests."  He took a step back, already fading gradually into the shadows.

Celas lifted her head, jaw working on a response with no words.  Before she could think of anything to say, he had left.  She sighed.  "Master…Alucard…."  She scooted back on the bed and tucked her knees up under her chin.  "A cat in heat," she muttered moodily.  "What a thing to say, really.  Though…now that I think of it, I haven't had a…."  She stopped, glancing about in suspicion just to make sure Alucard wasn't still hanging around.  But she heard nothing.  "Stupid vampires.  How am I supposed to get any work down if they're hitting on me?"

It seemed too ridiculous to imagine, and she sighed, forcing the images from her mind.  Only one remained—Alucard, leaning over her, lips quirked.  It made her insides curl once more.  "Oh, stop that—your body's playing tricks on you."  But it was no use—she was still restless.  With a groan she pushed to her feet and decided to get out for a bit.  Maybe Walter would even have a proper meal for her.

To Be Continued….


	2. Chapter 2

Hellsing isn't mine, so sad, so I'm stealing it for this fic without permission, and I apologize. 

**Moonlit Midnight**

Chapter 2: Just a Little Frisky

Integra exhaled a trail of smoke, her pale eyes shifting over the soldiers that wove in an out of Hellsing's corridors. "How is it, Walter?" she asked, not averting her gaze.

"Everything seems to be in order," he replied crisply. "The supplies have been properly stored, and bunk assignments arranged. I believe Mr. Zimmerman was looking for you earlier."

Her eyebrows perked. "Is that so." A tiny smile curled the edge of her lips. "Well, I'm a busy woman, after all. What about Varjak?"

"Joan Varjak has been assigned to the second floor. So far there have been no reported incidents."

"Well, the night is young. Perhaps I'll ask her to join one of our patrols." She snorted. "Get her out of our hair for a while. Jacob will definitely hear from me about bringing her. I don't need her harassing my officers."

"It might be best to warn Agent Victoria," Walter suggested.

"Alucard will look after her well enough." Satisfied, she turned back towards her office. "Speaking of which, make sure those two are taken are of. I'll be in my office if I'm needed."

Walter nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

Integra made her way back to her office ion the third floor, finishing her cigar along the way. IT was good to hear the institute alive with so many soldiers again, even if not all of them were hers. If she had felt any resentment about accepting Mithril 6's assistance, it had faded with the relief of her knights. For now, at least, she was willing to forgo arrogance, if it put her own at ease.

She knew someone had beaten her to her office long before flicking the door open. "Make yourself at home," she remarked dryly as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

Jacob smiled innocently. He was leaning against her desk, legs crossed casually at the ankle and arms folded. It was exactly the way he should have looked—boyish, confident, with a few strands of thin brown hair straying too far over his face no matter how he combed it. After all this time it was comforting to know that some things never changed.

"I thought you'd be back here eventually," Jacob said. "Pardon the intrusion."

"Your people have taken over my entire institute," Integra replied easily as she circled about her office chair. "A few more intrusions won't hurt."

Jacob turned slightly, uncrossing his arms so he could lean on his hands. Every movement of his was smooth and casual, with the kind of lazy grace only someone as skilled as him could well manage. "At least everyone seems to be getting along," he offered. "Our mission so far has been a success."

"So far," she echoed. She leaned forward on her elbows, hands folded. "Speaking of which, there was a particular matter I wanted to discuss."

Jacob lifted a hand. "If it's about Varjak, there's nothing I can do," he told her truthfully. "She's one of our best agents, and Sanfeld insisted she be here. Even if he hadn't, she would have found a way."

"If she becomes a problem," Integra replied firmly, "I will ship her home personally. Hellsing Institute has not forgotten how she attacked one of our officers the last time she was here."

"Integra. We both know she could not have possibly done Alucard any harm."

She snorted around a humorous smirk. "That's not the point."

"Yes, I know. I've already talked to her." He paused. "But I'm not here to discuss business."

Integra raised an eyebrow curiously, as if she had not quite grasped his meaning. "Oh? What else is there?"

Jacob smiled, and two fingers traced the edge of the desk as he moved around it. Integra pushed back slightly so that she could face him. His eyes were gleaming—she couldn't pretend not to know what he was thinking. "I've missed you," he said, leaning his hip against the desk.

Integra met his gaze unfaltering, her face even. "It's been a while," she agreed.

Jacob reached out boldly to trace the line of her jaw with his fingertips. And when she did not react—did not even blink—he chuckled. "Still as stubborn as ever, I see. You're quite a woman, Integra."

This time she did blink—slowly and deliberately. "I have to be."

Jacob's smile sobered, and he leaned forward, setting a hand on her chair's armrest. Integra did not protest—indeed, tilted her chin just slightly—as he pressed a kiss against her lips. And though she had not intended to give him the satisfaction of a returned advance, she moved slightly against his mouth. It had, after all, been a long time for them both, and…she had missed him, if only a bit.

Pleased by his long awaited success, Jacob edged closer, trailing his kiss along her jaw, the space below her ear. One hand snaked around the base of her neck. Integra still refused to give him much more than a subtle incline of her chin, but when his lips ventured lower—over the scar in her throat—she gasped quietly and twisted out of his reach.

It was too late; he had seen. And before she could stop him he had tugged it free of her white shirt. "What's this? That…wasn't from a vampire, was it?"

Integra slapped his hand away, smoothing her collar over the pale marking. "It's nothing."

Jacob frowned at her uncharacteristically abrupt reaction. "It looks like a knife wound."

"I said it was nothing." She urged him back under the guise of seeking another cigar. She had hoped the smoke would calm her somewhat, but found no such luck. Jacob didn't have to know everything—she had no intention of explaining herself to him. But she would not lie to him, either.

Jacob snorted quietly. "I thought we were through with these games."

"Do I look like I'm playing?"

"All right, all right." Jacob took a step back, surrendering. "I know this isn't the best time, anyway."

"Naturally." Integra straightened her suit unnecessarily. "But you owe me a briefing," she reminded him. "For this morning."

"That I do." Being careful to hide his disappointment, Jacob also adjusted his attire and glance at the commander. "I'll see you at dawn, then?"

Integra nodded. The time would at least give her the chance to prepare herself. Dealings with Jacob were, after all, never anything less than vigorous. The thought made her smirk. "At dawn, then. I'll expect some answers."

"And I'll have plenty to give," he replied in earnest, backing towards the door. "Aren't I always good to you?"

Integra watched his departure with a look of subtle amusement. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Of course, of course. Until morning."

Jacob exited at last, closing the office door behind him. Once alone he released a sigh. It was almost embarrassing, the things that woman did to him—he knew he wouldn't be able to think straight all night. And perhaps that wasn't such an awful proposal. With a chuckle he turned to rejoin his comrades, only to find his path blocked by a familiar figure. "Ah, Alucard. I thought I might be running into you. Spying on us again?"

"Hardly necessary, is it?" the vampire chuckled.

Jacob snorted. "Stick around longer," he joked as he started down the hall, "and you'll have a fine enough show."

Alucard followed begrudgingly, and the American bit back a grin. He loved to tease Hellsing's loyal guard dog—Heaven forbid a vampire king should be called upon to perform a task as mundane as "walking." But Alucard seemed determined to best him. "Perhaps I will. Then I'll be there when you tell her about the fourth vehicle arriving this morning, which I wasn't supposed to know about."

Jacob lifted an eyebrow in appreciation. "And I'm sure you'll find that _really_ funny."

"Don't think that just because the sun is up, I won't figure out what you're up to," Alucard warned through a grin. "You're a long way from home."

"I'll be careful." Alucard really knew nothing after all—not the real reason they were here, not what he was planning. And for now, it was better that way; he did, after all, admittedly like Alucard, and was doing his best to protect him. Should a being such as Alucard even require protection.

"If you're playing us," Alucard continued, his tone playful, "Integra will have you all gutted, you know."

"She's been telling me that for the last ten years," Jacob replied. "And I've never lied to her. I'm going to marry that woman someday, you know." He stopped at the stairway. "So why don't you leave Integra to me, hmm?" But when he turned to see the vampire's response, he found that Alucard had already left.

"Jacob Zimmerman has been a personal friend of our Lady Integra for many years," Walter explained as he finished arranging the blood supplies in Hellsing's lower level. Celas was seated on a row of cabinets nearby, feet dangling as she sucked happily on her evening meal. "His father was the former commander of Mithril 6. But when his parents tragically died and the Institute fell into the hands of Mr. Sanfeld, they distanced themselves from Hellsing.

"Why?" Celas asked curiously. It was so rare that Integra seemed to get along with someone—she could not imagine why she would allow her friend and ally to recede in such a way. "We're both Institutes, aren't we?"

Walter nodded—it was difficult to place the calm expression he wore. "Unfortunately, it has a great deal to do with Sir Alucard. Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman, and their son, were quite respectful towards him, but Mr. Sanfeld does not share their views. He resents an institute that claims both God's and vampiric protection." He smiled helplessly. "Our ways are strange to him, and there have been conflicts in the past. It's only because of Mr. Zimmerman that we have any contact at all anymore."

Celas hummed thoughtfully. "Conflicts," she murmured. "You mean…that woman agent of theirs from earlier?" She did her best not to scowl at the memory.

"Ahh, so you did meet Miss Varjak." This time, it was easy to see the amusement in his face. "Two years ago she came with a detail chasing an American vampire—Alucard interfered, and there was a brief struggle. I'd like to think it was an educational experience for us all."

Despite herself, Celas grinned at the thought of her Master teaching that snobbish American a lesson. "I wish I'd seen it."

"As do I." Walter turned away from his work. "By the way, we seem to be missing a bag. You and Miss Varjak unloaded the supplies, didn't you?"

"I…well, that's…." Celas ducked her head, but when she glanced up Walter was smiling at her, teasing. She stared back at him, at a loss.

"It's quite all right," Walter said easily. "You've been very patient." 

Celas sighed in quiet relief. "I very sorry," she apologized all the same.

"Next time, don't be ashamed to ask for it."

She nodded. "Thank you, Walter." Smiling again, she pushed off the cabinets and straightened her uniform. "Well, I should get going. I'm on duty pretty soon."

"May God and the Queen's protection be with you."

"Amen." Celas grinned at her him one last time before starting briskly out of the basement. Tonight would be nothing special—just a night on the streets, cleaning up the few Freak vampires that remained. And she was almost looking forward to the distraction…until she remembered Alucard's warning.

"He doesn't want me out, but I can't explain myself to Lady Integra, either," she pondered aloud. "Well, I can't just hide out for the next few months. I'll just have to be…discreet." Certainly any interested vampire would think again once they realized she was a Hellsing officer. It might even make her job easier, by bringing her prey right to her. Though even with those thoughts she wasn't quite comforted as she joined with her unit in the courtyard.

Commander Wellerune gave out the assignments briskly—Celas frowned when he reported that she was to take her patrol in South Hedgewood—far from the city, and from most vampires. Usually she was kept in the middle of things, thanks to her abilities. She understood when she caught glances of the reserve soldiers Mithril 6 had sent; most were watching her, including the by now infamous Agent Varjak. Celas decided it wouldn't be so bad to sit this one out, if it meant avoiding the woman.

The group split apart, and Celas was about to join her comrades in the truck heading south when, unfortunately, Varjak took it upon herself to approach. The vampire bit back a breathless curse. "Can I help you?" she asked instead.

"You reek of blood," Varjak said pointedly. "I suppose that little snake you stole earlier wasn't enough…?"

"I can take care of my own diet, thank you," she replied tersely. "Now, would you excuse me? I have a job to do." She turned to leave, startled by her own boldness. But Varjak stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

"Don't you turn your back on me, Vampire," the woman growled. "Even as Hellsing's dog, it wouldn't take much to have you killed. That's _my_ job, after all."

Celas tugged on her grip, and was surprised again when she didn't escape immediately. Varjak really was strong. "You'd better leave me alone, or you'll have my Master to deal with," she warned.

The brief look of surprise that crossed Varjak's face as she withdrew was far too satisfying. "You're…Alucard's?" she surmised warily. Her eyes narrowed. "I should have known."

Celas bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Victoria! Varjak!" one of the captains called. "Get to your units—we're leaving!"

"Yes, sir!" Celas glared at the woman one more time—and was returned with the same vehemence—before turning her back again and heading for the truck. She could feel pale eyes on her the entire way. A tiny grin curled her lips—she hoped Master had seen that.

Several hours later found Celas standing in a back alley at South Hedgewood, her weapon smoking as the last of the vampire's remains disintegrated. She watched calmly, somewhat detached. So, there had been a vampire in South Hedgewood after all…an older man, well dressed and homely seeming, until his fangs emerged. Such was usually the case. And she had almost expected…something. Anything, to confirm Alucard's earlier words, but her target had not so much as looked at her funny.

"Master couldn't have been teasing me…." Celas murmured, sliding her weapon back into its holster. There was no trace of her quarry left now, and she ventured out of the alleyway, into open streets once more. Fortunately it was late enough by now that no one was about, nor heard her shots due to her gun's suppressor—a must in these smaller towns. "Well, I'm not due back for a while yet. I might as well…." She snorted. It wasn't as if she could just walk into the local pub and order a few drinks, after all. But there wasn't much else for her to do besides return to the institute, and she thought perhaps it might be nice to stay out a while. It would keep her away from Varjak that much longer, at least. And so, with a resigned sigh, she found a late night diner and slipped inside.

The diner was all but empty—one waitress, two old drunkards, and a very young woman were the only solemn patrons. Celas picked a seat and ordered a coffee—even if she didn't really intend to drink it, she wanted to keep up appearances. She was served, and sighed quietly as she stirred the steaming liquid. "I don't even know what I'm doing here," she muttered, disheartened.

It was only a few minutes later when the bell above the diner door chimed. Celas glanced up instinctually at the sound, and was a bit surprised to see a teenage boy slinking inside. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt—she made a face at the thought of another punk. But his face—though sporting two eyebrow bars—appeared pleasant and friendly. He spotted her quickly, and with a smile moved to join her. "Do you mind?"

"Oh, um, no," Celas replied, a bit perplexed. She offered a polite smile. "Please."

The boy grinned and slid into the booth across from her. Despite his odd appearance, his hair was immaculately clean and combed; pale, and thin, like corn silk. "You're out awfully late," he remarked. "Even for a police officer."

Celas chuckled evasively. "Well, you know how it is."

"That's cool. Keeping our streets safe." He made some hand gesture at the waitress, who seemed to understand and placed an order with the cook. "I'm here a lot," he explained with a wink. "They know me."

"It's awful late for someone your age to be wandering around," Celas said lightly.

To this, the boy chuckled. "Maybe," he conceded, and when he tilted his head, the light reflected oddly in his too blue eyes. "Maybe."

Celas' breath caught in her throat, and she sat back abruptly. "You're—"

"Yeah." He snorted. "Duh. Young, aren't you?" The vampire chuckled to himself as she shifted in her seat.

"I…." Celas bit her lip, watching the boy now with added caution. He…wasn't one of the Freak vampires she'd been against lately. And though she could not sense in him the same timeless maturity as in Helena, she could tell there was more beneath his youthful appearance. Here was a real vampire, on the other end not of a gun but a table, his eyes fixed pointedly on her.

The youth extended his hand. "The name's Garret," he introduced, and dumbly she accepted. "Have you moved in recently? Gotta admit, I'm kinda spoiled being alone out here, but I don't like to fight."

Celas blinked. She could determine well enough what he meant: he thought she was moving into his feeding territory. "Oh no—no, of course not. I'm not staying. I'm…." She glanced helplessly down at her coffee.

But Garret only smiled, his gaze never leaving her. "It's all right," he assured. "I know why you're really here." He waved a hand at her uniform, and the insignia it bore. "We're a bit far out here, but I guess everyone knows about you folk. And I should thank you, for taking out old man Arrason. He was getting on my nerves."

"Ah…yeah." Celas' face twisted in confusion. Every other she had met outside Hellsing—humans, hunters, and vampires alike—had treated her with a certain air of condescension, or downright loathing. Hellsing had, after all, been slaughtering true vampires long before the appearance of the enhancing Freak chips. And yet there was no malevolence in Garret's attention on her now. In fact, he appeared all too eager.

There was only one explanation, and the thought of it colored Celas' cheeks fiercely. "Um," she stuttered ungracefully, "I'm sorry, but…that is…is there something you…."

Garret chuckled at her confusion. "Why don't you at least tell me your name?" he suggested. 

"Celas," she replied without thinking. "And I'm supposed to be on duty, so I should probably—"

"Now hold on a second," Garret said quickly, his hand falling over hers. "There's no rush, is there? Stay a while."

Celas started to speak but fell silent abruptly as she transferred her gaze to their touching flesh. A tiny shiver ran up her arm, followed closely by a deepening blush. She ducked away, embarrassed for having reacted in such a way toward a complete stranger. Whatever condition she may be in, that was no excuse. Despite this, she could not bring herself to utter a word.

He smirked. But before he could think of a proper word the waitress arrived with his order—a hamburger, raw, and a beer. As soon as the waitress had left Garret casually removed the bun, onions, and pickles from his meal, treating himself to a taste of pink meat. He shrugged at Celas' stare. "It's no substitute," he explained. "But it's not so bad. I like to be seen about and eating, after all. It's kinda fun, too—chewing."

Celas pursed her lips thin, doing her best to ignore the juice seeping over his lips from the meat. It was making her stomach twist, though having already fed twice that night. Alucard's words could not be proven so soon…. "Garret," she started carefully. "How…did you know I was here?"

"Hmm?" Garret returned her gaze calmly. "Like I said, I come here all the time. We're just lucky, I guess." He winked.

Celas' shoulders crept higher. "Yes, but…you knew what I am right away, didn't you? How…."

Garret at first didn't seem to understand, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But when he saw that Celas was honestly puzzled, he grinned in embarrassment. "You mean…you didn't know?"

"Know what?"

"That you're…." Garret flushed, and coughed sharply. "Well, not to be crude, but you're kid of giving off signals. Y'know?"

Celas' face brightened in turn, and she ducked lower in her chair. "So everyone really can tell," she groaned. "How humiliating."

Garret laughed. "Oh, it's not all that bad. Your first time?" She nodded miserably. "It's kind of like…a smell we get," he explained. "Like a sexy perfume, just kinda saying, 'hey.' Y'know? Only other vampires can tell."

She nodded, oddly comforted by the natural tone of his voice. Her mind was filled suddenly with questions; though Alucard had been trying to help her earlier, she wasn't always comfortable in asking him directly. Garret's casual air, and the fact that he seemed to know what he was talking about, gave her a little more confidence. "So, you've been around vampires like me before."

"It's not that bad," Garret assured again. "But yeah, I've been around long enough." He squinted at her. "You…are pretty young, aren't you?"

"Only a few months," she admitted.

"Didn't your master teach you this kind of stuff?"

"Well…." Celas shook her head slightly. "Not really. He's…I wouldn't know what to ask." Alucard was so much more powerful than her—she wouldn't even know where to start, wouldn't want to waste his time having to take care of her. "He's a wonderful master, of course, but I…."

He nodded. "I see. Must be a higher up—some of the old folks can be like that." He dug a few pounds out of his jeans pocket to pay for the meal. "How about I take you around?"

"What?" Celas stared at him blankly. "What do you—"

"C'mon, it'll be fun." Garret stood up from the booth, moving around to drag her along. "You'll be back on the streets before ya know it, with a few more tricks."

Celas frowned, even as she allowed him to pull her outside. "Are you sure you're not just trying to get on my good side?" she asked darkly.

"Of course—wouldn't want a Hellsing officer after me." He winked.

"That's not what I meant, but…." Celas blushed again as she followed him down the street, outside of the window glow of the diner. As soon as it was out of sight they were plunged into lightless streets once more. She glanced about uneasily. "Where are you taking me?"

"Right here." Garret ducked into a narrow side alley, grinning conspiratorially. "Just keep following me; it'll be fine." And with that he turned, leaping effortlessly onto the five-meter high alley wall.

Celas sputtered ungracefully. "Um, excuse me, but I—"

"You can make it, he promised, holding out a hand. "Just try it—you'll see what I mean."

She returned his gaze with disbelief, but he looked so sure…. "All right, then." Steeling herself she crouched, concentrating on the youth's hand as she launched herself upward. For a moment she almost felt weightless, and then her feet touched solid stone once more. "Ah—" She started to tip forward, but Garret's hand on her shoulder kept her steady. She blinked. "I made it. Just like that."

Garret laughed, giving her hand a squeeze. "Just like that. Vampires can do anything—you just need to know where to start." He snatched her hand. "Come on."

Without waiting for a response Garret tugged her closer and slung an arm around her waist. He was stronger than he looked—once powerful jump took them sailing onto the roof of a nearby building that was at least three stories high. Celas gasped, and hardly had time to catch her breath before they were in the air again, heading south through the town.

"I love to jump—can't help it," he laughed above the wind. "It's the closest a vampire of my level will ever get to flying.'

"Flying?" Celas echoed. She licked her lips. "Yeah…." Not like Alucard. Someone like him…they didn't have a chance of ever reaching his level. When they paused at the next building she urged his arm off her. "Do you mind? I'd like to try for myself."

"Sure." Blatantly pleased, Garret released her, transferring his hand to hers. They stepped to the edge of the roof together, and as a pair leapt into the air once more. Celas kept her eyes wide, delighted, as they sailed easily to the next building. Though she could have wished for an easier uniform, the night wind felt good against her face, her body light and exhilarated. They had crossed nearly half the town in this soundless, graceful manner before Celas was satisfied, and even then she was not a bit fatigued.

"Your master must really be something," Garret remarked as they stopped at last. "You're a natural."

"Yeah, I guess." Celas dangled her feet of the roof edge. They had taken rest on the top of a four-story office building near the highway, watching idly as the car lights streamed past. "But then, I guess it's just because I'm…."

"Hmm, maybe. Guess that means you'd better take advantage of it."

Celas scoffed weakly, and shied away beneath his gleaming eyes. It had been a long time, she thought with a blush, since someone had hit on her like this. Well, with any class, anyway. She wasn't sure if she should have been flattered by the attention, or disappointed by its cause. And it wasn't helping that he looked several years beneath her age.

"Please stop that," she said at last, elbowing him in the side. I know why you're being so nice to me."

"Oh come on—you're enjoying it," he retorted, nudging her back. "Is it really so bad?"

"Well…it's not that flattering, knowing you can't help it."

Garret chuckled, leaning over suddenly to kiss her playfully on the cheek. "Hey!" she sputtered, shoving him. "What are you—"

Celas jumped as her radio sparked suddenly to life, and she scrambled to unclip it from her belt. "Yes, Victoria here," she hastily reported.

"Victoria," her commander snapped. "Were have you been? You were supposed to report in half an hour ago."

"I'm sorry, sir. I…had a little trouble, but it's been taken care of." Celas shifted nervously away from Garret, who was starting to make childish faces at her.

"All right. Next time, don't forget to report in, whatever your situation. Just get back here."

"Yes, sir. I'm on my way."

The radio went silent, and she sighed as she replaced it at her hip. "Well, I guess that's it," she told him, all too relieved. "Thanks, though—it was fun."

Garret smiled at her genuinely. "Anytime, kid."

"Kid?" Celas rolled her eyes and climbed to her feet. Even if he might have been decades older than her, he still looked no older than eighteen. She stretched, glancing about. "Now…how am I gonna get back?"

"You can run," he suggested. "London's only about twenty kilometers from here."

"Run? But that's—"

"You want to get stronger, don't you? It should be an easy workout for you."

Celas considered, watching the cars run down the highway, wondering if she could really do s he indicated. It all seemed so unreal, even after everything she had witnessed so far. "We'll see. But…." She glanced down at Garret. Despite all her teasing, she really had enjoyed herself that evening. Being away from the institute, from the city, her job, and even Alucard, was calming, as if she could breathe more easily.

"Garret," she said quietly, watching him. "I'm…a Hellsing officer, you know? I really should be fighting you right now. Doesn't that bother you?" She wasn't sure why she was asking—perhaps only to test if she really had made a friend here. One of…what was supposed to be her own kind.

Garret's eyes thinned, though his smile did not falter. Slowly, he climbed to his feet so that he could properly face her. "You have your reasons," he said evenly. "And you said yourself a while ago you've only killed the Freak vampires, so I can't complain."

"Yes, but…." She ducked her head. "Once we've destroyed all the Freak chips, we'll be back to killing real vampires. Will you…." She clenched her fists. "Will everyone hate me then?"

Garret stepped closer, and before she could think to pull away his hands were warming her already flushed cheeks, his lips soft on hers. It sent a shiver down her spine unlike anything she had felt in a long time, and she admonished her foolish body for reacting with such eagerness. But when he recoiled, his face reflected gentle seriousness. "What you should really be worrying bout," he told her grimly, "is what will happen to you once there aren't any more vampires to kill."

Celas' lips parted to speak, which he took advantage of with another kiss. "Take care of yourself," he advised with a wink.

"Oh, you." Celas pushed him back half-heartedly. But his words had already sunk in, and she wasn't quite in a mood for humor anymore. "I'm leaving now. Just be glad I haven't already taken you out."

Garret backed off, his cheerful grin in place once more. "All right, I got it. I'm gone. Thanks for not kicking my ass. Look me up, if you're ever around."

"Sure." Celas managed a polite smile as a farewell, stepping again to the edge. "I guess I might see you again."

"We _are_ immortal, after all."

"Yeah…." Celas shook herself. "Well, goodbye." Before she could think about it too much she leapt off the edge, suffering a moment of panic as the pavement rose up to meet her. But she landed without difficulty, as if having dropped no more than a meter. She marveled at that only a moment before starting down the highway. "I guess…I might as well try it," she decided. "I've eaten plenty tonight, and I am supposedly stronger, so…."

Celas took a deep breath, starting away from the highway—she didn't want anyone to see her running by herself. When she was far enough to be out of sight she readied herself and took off running. At first she couldn't tell that anything had changed; it wasn't often that she could just run, flat out without restriction, and she warmed up to the exercise gradually. After a few minutes, however, she became aware of how quickly the scenery was passing by. Her limbs were moving faster than they ought to have been, and she hadn't even broken a sweat. It felt good. 

Celas grit her teeth, grinning, as she pushed herself faster. It was exhilarating; the wind, the smell of the country, the adrenaline…she hadn't been able to enjoy a workout like this in a long time. Combined with all her activity from earlier and the remaining warmth on her lips, she felt incredible. Full and excited and content—as if for the first time really realizing what it meant to be immortal.

By the time Celas at last arrived back at Hellsing, she was just starting to become tired. Commander Wellerune welcomed her back with a bit of a scowl---she had arrived back hours later than expected. She apologized appropriately, not mentioning how she had come, and ducked quickly inside before further reprimand could follow. She was starving again. But she had already taken more than her share for that evening, and she was afraid that Walter might question should she ask again. In any case, it was almost dawn, and she hoped a good rest would calm her appetite.

Celas opened the door to her room and all but bounded inside. She was expecting to see Alucard there; he had promised to be watching over her, after all, so he must have witnessed her entire evening. Certainly he would have a lot to say about her first encounter as an "available" vampire.

But Alucard wasn't waiting for her, nor did he appear when she called softly. She flopped onto the bed to wait a while. "Master…?"

Still nothing, and with a sigh Celas changed her clothes. "Well, goodnight, then," she murmured, stretching out on the bed. Whether he hadn't seen her after all or was simply holding his tongue would be a question for the next night.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Moonlit ****Midnight**

Chapter 3: Sour

Integra had already smoked down half of another cigar by the time there was a knock on her door. She let the thick, dark curtains fall over her window with a subtle flourish. She had been both anticipating and dreading this encounter, as it always was. It was almost embarrassing that a man like Jacob Zimmerman was able to unnerve her so effectively. She could blame inexperience, certainly, but that was not much comfort. 

"It's open." Integra turned away from the window, tugging her suit straight as the door swung open. She greeted him with a terse nod. "Jacob."

"Integra." Jacob closed the door behind him and stepped further inside. There was a tiny grin at the edge of his lips, resembling the same male confidence she was more than used to. But there was something about Jacob in particular that kept her from being annoyed with the expression. She had to admit, it might have been because she trusted him; as much as she could trust anyone. After all, she already knew all his secrets.

"I trust you're here to answer the rest of my questions?" Integra waited for him in the middle of the room, trusting he would cross the rest of the distance to meet her. 

Jacob did so, his eyes never leaving hers. It made her a bit uncomfortable. "Of course," he replied easily, stepping a bit closer than she would have normally allowed. "And maybe…a few other things."

_And so it begins. She wasn't, however, above teasing him. She lifted an eyebrow. "You know better, Jacob."_

"I know you're not quite as untouchable as you think you are," he retorted lightly, and with a bold move took her by the elbows, tugging her closer. She resisted a little, hoping he wouldn't do anything to make her push him away completely. "Is it really so bad to be human?"

"Whatever you're thinking," Integra told him evenly, "you know I can't."

"You just like saying that," he accused, pulling her closer still. Before she could protest his arm was around her waist. "One might almost think you were saving yourself."

Integra pushed against him at last, muttering, "Don't patronize me." She didn't need to take anything, even from this man. But she had forgotten how strong he really was, and he didn't release her right away. A touch of warm breath skated along her throat.

"Saving yourself…for a vampire…?"

She twisted away, violently, and this time Jacob didn't try to stop her. "You don't know what you're talking about," she snarled, taking a few steps away and straightening her suit again. She snubbed her cigar out vengefully. 

Jacob held his hands up innocently. He was grinning, much to her annoyance. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You know I'm kidding." He took a seat on the edge of her bed to relax. "You can't blame a guy for trying."

"You try it again, and you'll lose part of your anatomy," Integra warned. But she changed the subject quickly, not wanting to dwell on this. She didn't need Jacob distracted; or herself. "Besides, that's not why you're here. I want to know what you're hiding from me."

Jacob sighed, sobering when he realized she meant business now. "I don't think you'll like it," he confessed. "But I've brought you a present, and I don't want Alucard anywhere near it."

Integra snorted. She seated herself at her desk chair and turned it to face him. "You've never worried about Alucard before. I suppose it's a weapon, then, though I can't imagine how you think we can use it."

"Things are a little different back home than over here," he began to explain, serious as usual. She envied how he could switch moods so easily. "We never got the Freak vampires you've been dealing with. Only pure bloods who don't have enough pride to keep their powers to themselves. Becoming a vampire now is almost fashionable, and as easy as finding the right web page." His voice darkened. "They're getting stronger, Integra. And I've lost a lot of good agents. I think they're trying to rebuild some kind of elite—some kind of structure. They're a lot more organized than they used to be."

She pursed her lips and nodded vaguely. "I suppose you could say European vampires are more particular about those they change."

"We haven't been able to determine much—only that their leader they've named Mephistos. No one's seen him or knows anything about him, and he's surrounded by powerful vampires he's changed."

_Mephistos?__ Sounds like a joke. "And this is where you tell me you've found a new way to fight them," Integra interrupted with amusement._

Jacob's serious expression was tainted by a wry smile. "You know me too well; you're right, of course. Parked in a van out in open sunlight."

Integra's humor slowly began to fade as she watched the man's face. "You really are trying to hide it, aren't you," she mused aloud. "That's not like you. You've never mistrusted Alucard before."

"You'll have to see it to understand."

"Fine." Integra stood. "Let's see this new weapon you're so proud of."

"Right now?" He slouched a little. "You're…not tired?"

She snorted indignantly. "You're not getting out of this. If you're going to such lengths to conceal it, it must be worth my attention. Besides," she added darkly, "I don't trust your boss."

"We didn't come here to use it on Alucard."

Integra frowned abruptly and turned to face him once more. Suddenly she was regretting having ever invited him and his institute. "Mephistos is here. Isn't he."

Jacob sighed, his eyes escaping hers. "We managed to catch word of several vampires leaving the country," he started slowly. "Everyone knows about Hellsing now, how a pair of Freak vampires nearly destroyed the institute—how its leader was incarcerated. The whole world sees London as easy pickings." He sat a bit straighter. "And if Mephistos is as old as the rumors say, it's likely that he knows Alucard."

Integra turned toward her desk, shuffling through the papers she'd abandoned earlier—the reports she should have paid better attention to. "Damn Americans. You think you can come in here and do things your own way. Hellsing doesn't want your help."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Integra—"

"Shut up. You're leaving."

"Integra." He climbed to his feet and started toward her. "Now hold on a second."

"I will not. I told you I wouldn't be played I my own institute. We appreciate your aid, and now it's time for you all to leave."

"Huh—and there she goes with the royal 'we,'" he muttered dryly.

Integra turned on him, ready to retort viciously. But his hands snapped on her shoulders, tightly, reminding her again that he was much stronger than her. "Listen to me," he said firmly. "Mephistos is _my enemy. If he is here, it's because he's after Alucard—for whatever reason. I'm here to kill an American vampire, and that's what I intend to do."_

"If these recent events are any indication of our Institute," Integra returned in kind, "it has proven that Hellsing is more than capable of taking care of itself."

"Because of Alucard." His words twisted her expression disconnectedly, but he continued before she could protest. "If not for the spell that binds him, your institute would have been destroyed by him decades ago. And just recently—what would have happened, if not for his help?"

She glared at him, not bothering to struggle this time. "Exactly what point are you trying to make?"

Jacob's voice softened now that she was willing to pay attention. "I won't claim to know Alucard as well as you do," he said slowly. "But I know—almost certainly—that Mephistos is here for him. Now what will you do if you can't count on him?"

A bitter smile twisted Integra's features. "You're assuming a lot about Alucard. He wouldn't disobey me."

He let his hands slip deliberately from her shoulders. His eyes were strange, then—deeper than they had seemed a moment ago. "You think you know him that well?"

"Don't presume to know anything about me, or him." She stepped back, putting some space between them. "Or Hellsing, for that matter. Whatever you Americans brought along with you, we'll be sure to clean it up for you. On _our terms."_

"We didn't—" Jacob stopped himself, nearly biting on the words. Integral had no sympathy as he took a moment to calm himself. She wished that it wouldn't always come to things like this between them; even as children, their arguments had been the same. She had never needed him to protect her.

Jacob took a breath and started again. "All I'm asking," he stated carefully, "is that you take a look at what I'm offering. If you don't think you can use it, we'll take it back with us. I'll leave Alucard to you. Agreed?"

Integra's eyes narrowed; she hated to allow him even this much. Had it been anyone else, they would have been on their way home by now. It was her knowledge of how much this meant to her old comrade that she stayed her objections. "I'll look," she said at last. "And then I'll laugh, and send you home. And Alucard was never an issue." She turned her back on him to fetch a fresh cigar. "I'll probably tell him about it myself, once I've seen it."

She felt, rather than saw, Jacob wince. "If you think that's necessary for a weapon you don't intend on using," he replied gaugingly.

"We'll see." She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Now let's get this over with."

---------

Half an hour later Walter had stopped their car on the top level of a downtown parking garage; in full sunlight, as promised, with several soldiers in civilian clothing milling about. They snapped to attention when they saw their superior. Integra frowned severely as they approached the wide vehicle; if her own superiors found out about the decision to hide a weapon in a civilian area like this, there was sure to be all kinds of political trouble.

"He's always been rather bold, hasn't he?" Walter remarked.

"Yes, but not usually this stupid." Integra followed him around to the truck's back end, arms crossed and waiting. "All right, Jacob," she said impatiently. "Let's see what this is."

Jacob nodded gravely, and without his usual flourish unlatched the heavy plated doors and swung them open. Integra stepped hesitantly forward with Walter beside her. At first she wasn't sure what to make of it; the interior walls looked like they were made of glass, with thick bulbs underneath. Otherwise, the truck was empty. When she realized what it was that Jacob was showing her, all she could do was laugh. As promised.

Jacob sighed, running a hand self-consciously through his hair. "I guess I don't have to explain."

"Jacob," Integra stated firmly, not bothering to smother and incredulous grin. "Please tell me you haven't lost your mind completely."

"It works," he insisted. "We found a way to reproduce real UV radiation, in such a way that—"

"The sun can sometimes kill vampires," Integra conceded. "When they're out long enough and provided they don't wear protection. But this is ridiculous." She gestured toward the vehicle with a trace of disgust. "Has it even been tested?"

Jacob returned her harsh gaze in turn. "There are three more like it back home. In ten months, they've killed twenty-seven vampires—several of which our department has been after for years."

Walter cleared his throat. "If I may," he gently interceded. "Exactly how have you been able to get the vampires close enough to use it?"

Jacob straightened visibly, his eyes never leaving Integra. "Simple anticipation. We lay traps for them, or weaken them and drive them inside. No on knows vampires better than I do—it's easy when you know how they think. Especially the arrogant ones."

Something in Integra's stomach churned; a feeling of almost dread that she couldn't place. "And you intend to use this on Mephistos."

"Yes. I will."

She snorted. "And you wanted to hide it from Alucard." It was almost enough to make her laugh again. "Do you honestly believe Alucard would care? Something like this couldn't kill him even if you were able to somehow get him inside."

He didn't speak at first, which was more than enough for her to know his thoughts; he actually believed her Alucard could be affected by such a thing. In light of his seriousness—and because he as her friend—she managed to bite back any indication of amusement. "You already know what I'm going to say."

Jacob's shoulders sagged just barely. "Yes. As long as you have Alucard, you won't need something like this. I didn't expect you'd want to keep it." He closed the doors back up, latching them shut. "But you know…for a high level vampire, it's the only way to kill them properly." His voice lowered. "The only way you can be sure they'll never come back."

"Jacob…." Integra sighed and shook her head. "The answer is no. If Mephistos really is in London, Hellsing with deal with him on our own terms. And as soon as he's dead or left he country, you'll leave with all your toys. Understood?"

He pursed his lips. "Perfectly."

"Good. Now, I'm going back." She turned briskly on her heel and started back to her car, Walter behind her. "Knowing we have another vampire in the city will mean more preparations before I'm able to sleep."

"Integra," Jacob called after her. When she didn't stop, he gave a few last minute instructions to the soldiers and jogged to catch up. "Integra, wait."

"I was tempted to send you all home, simply for keeping things from me," she interrupted dryly. "But I suppose if this is all, I won't bother."

Walter cast her a questioning look--she ignored it. She wasn't accustomed to going easy on anyone, let alone those closest to her. And Jacob was being a damn fool. She wasn't surprised when he fell moodily silent for the entirety of their return to the institute, nor when he murmured a quick apology and left them. She had no sympathy.

"Pardon me, Lady Integra," Walter said carefully as they, too, entered the grounds once more. "But would you mind sharing your real thoughts on this matter?"

She could have anticipated that, as well. "You don't approve of my decision?" she challenged.

"I agree with all your decisions. It is my duty." He paused. "But Mr. Zimmerman was serious, and given his complicated history…."

"Yes, I know." Integra sighed faintly. She knew all too well. "I know Jacob better than he realizes, and I do believe that he thinks his machine works. But that's not how Hellsing operates, and that's something he needs to learn."

Walter nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Then…you won't be mentioning it to Sir Alucard, will you?"

"There's no need to. He'll find out himself sooner or later--I'd think the matter below his relevance."

"Yes, of course."

Integra's expression tightened, however, the further they moved inside. Despite all her strong words, Jacob's warning had not left her completely; and it would be interesting to see how Hellsing's strongest ally would fair against an American peer.

----

Alucard watched, amused, as Jacob found some empty quarters on the third floor to get his rest, and Integra went about her business. All this secrecy was making him very curious; especially with Jacob going to such lengths. The last time he had visited, Jacob was more than willing to divulge every detail of his investigation. For him to think that he could hide anything from Alucard was laughable.

Whatever it was, Integra did not call for him--and if it wasn't enough to concern her, Alucard would not waste his time. He would know eventually; he always did. For now he would be satisfied with spying on the remainder of Mithril 6.

As expected, the American soldiers were more than enough to keep him occupied. He absorbed their accented muttering through the vague, semi-conscious state that always came over him during the daylight. There was no sleep for a vampire as old and powerful as him; only conservation, and brief periods of restoration. He had occupied the Hellsing Institute for so long, bound within its walls, that it had become as genuine and homelike to him as any vampire's castle. Every stone and stair were part of his limited domain, and he found that he could traverse the veins of the spell holding him as easily as if he had constructed them himself. Indeed he could not have spied on Integra's brood more effectively were he free of all her ancestor's spells.

It was not until late in the afternoon, however, that Alucard's drifting vigil produced anything of considerable interest: Miss Varjak, poking about where she didn't belong as usual. She had a way of blending in despite her appearance, remarkably enough, and those few soldiers that did notice her scarcely dared to question. With the odds in her favor, she had managed to slip into the basement all but undetected, completely undisturbed. And she was heading for a familiar room.

Alucard diverted all his attention to her, senses sharpening. He would not surprise her with a visit, however, until the best opportunity arose.

---

Celas drifted anxiously through a fitful sleep. She had been able to find little rest that day--the times did manage to find slumber were brief, but deeply intense, as if she were being thrown abruptly into a coma, then wrenched back a moment later. Her dreams were spastic, bizarre, and quickly forgotten form one fit to the next. Leaving the lid to her coffin open was a mild relief, as the fresh air seemed to appease her aching skull.

Her mind was restless. Whether it was from Garret's mild advances, the unaccustomed exercise, or simply her sharpening hunger she could not tell, but it was fraying her nerves. In the dark and stillness of her room, she could have sworn she heard a heartbeat. A shuffle of footsteps. The smell of a human coming closer. She bit her lip and kept still, fighting away those foolish dream senses in search of real rest.

Celas's ears throbbed with a pulse; it made her mouth water despite her attempts to stay calm. No one ever entered her room save Walter, and even he only came just before dusk. Was it that late already? With her senses confused--pounding--she couldn't be sure. But the heartbeat was joined then with a smell, and then…a presence. A thick, familiar aura, that sent a quiver down her spine and into her already twisting gut.

A voice--her Master's voice. The words were too far outside of her to be made out, but she could almost feel the rich, deep tones vibrating through her. With a jolt her eyes snapped open, revealing the cause of her recent anxiety--human flesh, rising with the faint blue ridges of full veins. Celas couldn't help herself; still drunk on the mages from her dreams she lunged, sinking her teeth into pale skin. Blood flowed over her lips, thick and warm, and she shivered with morbid delight as the fluid slid down her parched throat.

Though Alucard would be the last to admit his own amusement and arrogance had made him careless, by the time he realized what was happening Varjak was freeing her weapon. He surged forward in a blur of rippling red fabric, tearing the woman's handgun away before setting upon Celas. He dug his fingers harshly into the base of her jaw, forcing her to release Varjak's shredded wrist. Both females retreated; bloodied, and stunned.

"Celas," Alucard snapped, giving her one good shake. Behind him, Varjak cradled her arm against her stomach, spitting curses as she hastily retrieved and aimed her weapon.

"Ma…." Celas blinked, raising a hand tentatively to her lips. Her fingers were tainted by warm, sticky fluid, and her own twisted smile. She had…taken the blood of a human; she could feel it, swirling into her stomach. "Master, I…."

"Damn bitch," Varjak snarled, backing away slowly from the pair. "Even as a human's dog, you still--"

"I hope you're not on your way to report this," Alucard warned. He kept a hand protectively on Celas' shoulder as she trembled. "You're not allowed down here, after all."

"Shut the hell up," she snapped. But she looked unsteady, most likely already feeling the effects of her blood loss. Alucard wasn't worried--she had suffered greater injuries before, in his experience, and a wound like that wouldn't hurt her. "You just watch that little hell-bitch of yours." Already frustrated and wincing, she turned suddenly and fled from the room.

Celas gulped, then paled, as it brought more of the coppery taste to her stomach. "Master, I…." She scrubbed at her face to try and remove the stain. There was no helping the taste, however, and it was making her nauseous. "Oh god, I…." She pressed her eyes shut. "What happened?"

"I caught her snooping around your room," Alucard explained slowly. She couldn't quite place the emotion in his voice. "When I surprised her, she back into your coffin."

"And I…." Celas shuddered, drawing in on herself. "I wasn't even thinking. I just saw her hand there, and the veins, and…." And she had, for a moment, enjoyed it. The memory of that excitement was still fresh inside her, making her pulse throb in her temples and fingertips. "Master." She began to push shakily to her feet. "I think I'm going to be sick--"

"Hold on." Alucard eased her down once more, removing his glasses with his free hand. Celas couldn't help but meet his deep gaze. "Just calm down--you're all right." A thin, crooked smile twisted his lips. "It's too late to regret it now."

Celas shrank away from him. "Master…." Of course Alucard wouldn't have understood. HE care nothing for Varjak--he was pleased, even, to see that she had at last tasted fresh blood. It only made her ill ease worse. Not only had she failed her vow as a human to repress her unwanted instincts, she couldn't even honestly enjoy the sensation as a vampire.

"Master. I'm…all right." Carefully Celas ease his hand off her shoulder. "I'm sorry. Will…." She lowered her head. "I'm going to be in trouble, aren't I?"

"You would be," Alucard replied carelessly, "if Integra found out about it. But Varjak won't tell; she knows better." He chuckled. "She'd be thrown back across the ocean for being anywhere near this place, and the last thing she wants is to lose her chance at me."

"Oh." She looked away. There would be no punishment for her, even though she had attacked a human officer…enjoyed it. "Um, it's still pretty early, isn't it?" Celas stammered uncomfortably. She still felt sick, and she didn't want her master around should it become too much for her. "I think I'll try to get some more sleep, before I'm on duty." She gulped. "I guess I...feel a little better, now that I'm not so…." She trailed off.

"Hungry?" Alucard suggested playfully.

Celas cringed. "Um, yeah."

"All right." He touched the underside of her chin briefly, so that she would have to look at him again. "Celas. You've done nothing wrong. You've been drinking blood all along--this is what you chose."

"Yes, I did." Celas shook herself. "Yes, so don't worry about me. You should keep an eye on that woman before she gets into more trouble."

Alucard raised an eyebrow; he could see easily through her excuses, she knew. She only prayed that he would let well enough alone--she couldn't' face him anymore. He hesitated a moment more, perhaps thinking she would change her mind, before nodding. "All right. I'll come back for you later." With that he stepped back and into thin air, leaving her to her privacy.

Celas shuddered, fresh chills running over her now that she was alone. She bound her knees tightly to her chest. "Is this still…part of what's wrong with me?" she questioned aloud. She knew that Alucard might still be about, watching her, but out of his presence she couldn't bring herself to think about it. She was too frightened. "If it wasn't for Master, I…wouldn't have let go. What's happening to me?"

But her body was content now, filled and warm, and she found it difficult to hold onto her shame and disgust when her discomfort all that night had already been alleviated. "Maybe I'm already accepting it," she whispered, flopping onto her side with her legs still drawn close. "But…please, don't let it happen again." She pressed her eyes shut. "Please, don't let it happen again."

----

Alucard watched only a moment more before diverting his attention from the vampire completely. He could not help a certain feeling of disappointment, however broken down by resign acceptance. It had been too long since he had changed a human, even longer since one showed him regret. He knew it was only passing--soon enough, Celas would come to accept her new fate. She was adaptable and spirit; he would not have offered her immortality otherwise. But her persisted reluctance was beginning to baffle him; he, after all, had never questioned his own instincts.

Too restless now to return to his listless drifting, Alucard instead found himself at Integra's office. A diversion was in order, and teasing his master certainly never lost its charm. Without reservation he dropped out of the ceiling.

Integra glanced up from her paperwork, unconcerned--she was used to these visits. "You're up early," she remarked.

"So are you." Alucard strolled easily up to her desk. "But then, I'll bet you haven't slept."

"I got about three hours worth," she contradicted. "It will be enough."

"Unfortunate human limitations." Alucard glanced idly about the office, then down at her desk--the list of phone numbers she had laid out. He smiled curiously. "You've been busy."

Integra snorted, and he could almost see her brain churning about a proper explanation. "Jacob offered a few more headaches to me," she said after a short pause. "They were playing us after all. There's a vampire in town."

"Oh?" Alucard paused to stretch his senses. But Hellsing's spell--combined with the ever-present distracting aura given off by his female officer--were enough to confuse and disrupt any proper conclusion. Only a faint, familiar smell at the edge of his brain that he couldn't place.

Integra watched him patiently. "You mean, you haven't felt anything," she surmised evenly. She seemed unnaturally tense give the situation.

"No, I haven't," he admitted. "But there may be something out there. Certainly nothing worse than the usual."

If his master was relieved by the report, she didn't show it. She merely continued to watch him intently. "It's not like you to miss something like that," she accused, her tone again flat.

"It's not like you to be so concerned," he feinted. "Could it be that our good friend Zimmerman is beginning to affect you at last?"

But Integra knew better than to be so easily deterred. "Jacob has nothing to do with it." Dull amusement forced within cold concern burned in her eyes. "I'm asking you if you've been hiding something from me."

"No more than you." Alucard leaned over the desk, grinning easily as always. He would never lose in games like this. "Were you not going to mention Mr. Zimmerman's amazing new weapon?"

Integra held his gaze for a long time before at last pushing to her feet and turning toward the window. A slight tug on the curtain showed the sun had just set, leaving only a glow left of twilight. "You want me to tell you what it is."

'"I'm curious. Americans have interesting ideas."

"Yes, they do." She glanced at him over her should. "Do you know the name Mephistos?"

"Mephistos?" Alucard echoed. He couldn't help but laugh. Though her avoidance of his inquiries was by now painfully obvious, he was willing to let the matter fall. "I hope that's a human name. No vampire would be so trite." The very idea was almost insulting.

"That was my first impression," Integra agreed. "But these are Americans, after all--vampires there are considered a fashion." She crossed her arms. "I doubt he's any match for even our half-manned Hellsing. You vampires always show your weakness in arrogance." She smirked.

Again Alucard chuckled. "Perhaps. So?" His brow lifted. "What makes this 'Mephistos' special?"

"I'm not sure yet. But if Jacob is concerned, I'll at least proceed with caution."

"Fair enough." Alucard withdrew somewhat. "In that case, I suppose I'm going out tonight." 

"Take Celas with you," she added. "The two of you always end up working together on cases like this anyway. Might as well save you the trouble of spying on her."

Alucard made no defense. "She _is my vampire, after all."_

"And your responsibility."

"Of course, of course." He stepped back further, preparing to depart. "I look forward to impressing your lover for you." And he was gone before she could even scowl.

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	4. Chapter 4

Moonlit Midnight 

Chapter 4

It hadn't seemed like long at all when Celas was awoken by a hand on her shoulder. She started, blinking away the faint remnants of a shallow and unsatisfying sleep. Seeing it was Alucard didn't help matters. "Master…is it night already?"

Alucard smiled down at her. "A little past. You seemed to need the rest." He recoiled a little as she sat up.

"I suppose, but…." Celas rubbed at the back of her head, gradually recalling the events before her brief nap. Her face paled all over again. "Master, I…."

"Shh. That's enough of that." He lifted his other hand, displaying two full bags of medical blood. "I'm going to keep a closer eye on you from now on."

Celas stared at the offering, and immediately her stomach began to churn anew—in hunger, disgust, and resignation. Her hand shook a little as she retrieved them. "But Master," she began quietly, "I'm only allowed one. Won't Walter—"

"No," Alucard replied easily. "One of them is mine."

"One is…." Celas blinked, at first not understanding. "But…but Master, won't you…?"

The elder vampire chuckled, nudging the bags closer to her. "Go ahead. I don't need it."

Celas nodded vaguely, lowering her head to stare at the extra meal she held. Alucard was offering his to her…the thought warmed her, banishing much of her ill ease. "Thank you," she murmured, blushing. It had been a while since she'd been treated childishly, and though she would hate to admit it, she was almost grateful.

All these concerns were lost the moment the blood touched her lips. She would have liked to be disgusted, ashamed, but it was sweet and filling, and her body would offer no complaints. She drank the first packet in one breath, somehow careful enough not to spill any out of the corners of her mouth. As she switched packets she caught a glimpse of Alucard's eyes on her, bright and intense. He was not as skilled at hiding his own hunger as he would have liked to believe.

Celas finished with a gasp and licked her lips clean. The medical blood had a different taste to it than that she'd tasted earlier, helping her forget. It was almost frightening how much better she felt.

"Thank you, Master," Celas said again, tossing the new empty bags into the nearby wastebasket. "I'm sorry to be such a bother."

"You don't have to worry about it," he assured, a tiny smirk in place. "I just want you to be in top form when we go out tonight."

Celas blinked and did her best not to cringe. "We're on duty tonight?" She hoped that whatever it was, it would take them far from Varjak, and Integra.

"There's a new vampire in town," Alucard explained, backing away slightly as she rose to prepare. "An American—the real reason Mithril 6 is here. Lady Integra isn't concerned, but there's something to be said for vampires that cross the ocean. It should be interesting."

Celas made a doubtful face as she adjusted her uniform and retrieved her weapon. "I don't think I'll ever look forward to fighting as much as you do, Master."

Alucard chuckled. "It will be good for you to get some exercise. It's the only solution for too much energy, don't you think?"

"Yes, but…." Celas meet his gaze hesitantly. "Won't other vampires come after me?"

"If they do, then it will be faster for me to destroy them," Alucard replied simply. "We should make a good team."

Celas paused, blushing as she ran those words over in her mind. They were going to be working as a team—just them, fighting the same enemy. Together. She could almost feel herself glowing from the inside out. "Yes, Master!" she piped up excitedly.

He smiled appreciatively at her enthusiasm. "In that case, let's get started." Tilting his hat, he stepped back and vanished. "Miss Decoy."

Celas' spirits fell, and she groaned. "Master, that's not fair."

"Go on, Celas. I'll be watching you."

"All right." Still frowning disconcertedly, Celas traded her Halconen for a smaller, semi-automatic rifle. Even if she was supposed to be a decoy, she wasn't going out defenseless.

Celas reported in to Commander Wellerune on her way out. She was allowed to depart only after strict lecture on the importance of a timely report. And after that…she was allowed to leave alone. It was strange and a bit eerie driving out of the institute by herself, as she had always left with a detail of officers. She wasn't sure whether to be flattered or made wary by Integra's sudden confidence in her. Then she remembered she wasn't really alone after all. "Master?"

"Hm?" His voice seemed to echo all around her.

"Don't you think it's strange?" she asked, more to remind herself he was still there—to hear him—than out of genuine curiosity. "Lady Integra letting the two of us go out alone like this…."

"If Zimmerman's 'Mephistos' is as powerful as he seems to think it is, human troops won't be any help to us," he replied. "Integra doesn't want to waste any more of her soldiers."

"Oh. I see." Celas fell silent a moment in respect. She tried to gather herself quickly, however, so that Alucard wouldn't scold her for being sentimental. "Um, Master," She began anew. "Do you know this vampire, Mephistos?" It sounded like someone powerful.

Alucard didn't answer right away. "Not by that name. But depending on how old he is, I might have met him. Though most of us usually don't interact much."

"Like Helena," Celas murmured to herself distantly. "Alone, reading her books…." She shook herself. Alucard was talking to her—really talking other, and she wanted to continue for as long as he allowed. "What will you do, if you know him?"

This time Alucard's response took no consideration. "Fight and destroy him, like the others. It's the only way to determine his strength, after all."

"Hmm." Though it made sense, she couldn't admit to understanding well. "Do all vampires really enjoy fighting like that?" she mused aloud.

Her master chuckled. "Only those that can afford to."

Celas wasn't sure what that meant, so she fell silent once more, concentrating on her driving. She slowed, however, when she reached the outskirts of London. "Um, Master? Where are we going, anyway?"

"Through the city—slowly." His voice seemed close to her ear to her somehow, and she pressed her lips thin. "Mephistos probably went through some trouble to get here, and attracted the full attention of Mithril 6 in doing so. There's isn't much that can get an entire institute to ship across an ocean."

"He's that much of a danger?"

"Yes, we should he assume he's quite powerful." He sounded unnaturally amused by the prospect. "He's not afraid of being caught—he's in the city. And when he senses you're here, he'll follow." He chuckled faintly, and Celas groaned, understanding well enough.

"Him and every other vampire in the city," Celas muttered. She sped up again, taking them into the city at last. "I suppose once we've gone through the city, we'll head for the country?"

"Very good. I'm sure we'll be able to find a splendid gravesite for our lecherous little friends."

She sighed, but didn't argue as she took them into the city. It was still relatively early—not even eleven at night—and the streets had not cleared yet. "Hmm…Friday night," Celas murmured, watching as the city lights streaked past, intermitted by the shifting of bodies. None of them knowing that someone in their midst didn't belong. She found her gaze jumping among them, catching briefly on a face before moving on. The pulse of the city beat heart-like against her temples; unconsciously, a hand rose to her throat.

"Celas."

Alucard's voice, sharp and almost excited in her ear, woke her from her brief trance. She was stopped at a red light, and as a group of civilians made their way across the street, a face turned toward her to lock their gazes through the glass.

"Him," Alucard declared. "He's the reason we're here."

Celas blinked, and the man was gone. All that remained was a lingering stain on the back of her eyes: wide, round features; large eyes and a set jaw; piercing blue irises. A shudder ran through her, and she called her wits back to her as the light changed. "Master," she said, suddenly and mysteriously breathless. "What should I do?"

"Keep going," Alucard said as a low murmur in her ears. "If he's this eager to meet you, he can follow a bit longer. And this is no place for introductions."

"All right." Celas tried to settle her nervous stomach, pushing a hand through her hair. This was depending, after all, on her being able to draw the man in. He was probably still watching her, even now. It wasn't an encouraging thought, but she was determined to do this right, for her master. The light turned, and with a deep breath she continued to drive.

The rest of the city scenery passed as a blur of horizontal light and blaring noise. She didn't have to even concentrate on the roads she was taking—Alucard guided her, silently, with a dull pressure against her temples. And though she didn't catch sight of the same man's face again she felt his presence, as if it were a taste in the back of her throat. There were others, as well, that she detected—through Alucard—as flashes of bright eyes and low murmurs.

"Three minor vampires," Celas reported softly, testing her skills. "All male, and also our target."

"He's staying back," Alucard confirmed, his voice pleased. Celas beamed at his approval. "Probably waiting to see how you'll handle the others—if you're worthy."

Celas bit her lip as they continued out into the rural areas. "Master," she said after a moment, her voice dropping significantly with the gravity of her words. "Please allow me to fight them on my own."

There was a moment of silence, though not an unpleasant one. She could almost see Alucard's smile in her mind. "It's all right with me," he replied easily. "If you think you can handle all three."

"I can," she replied without thinking. Something strange had come over her; something determined and intense. She wanted to prove herself—not just to Alucard, but all of them, all those that would challenge her. All those that would fancy themselves worthy enough to have her. It was exciting, even, and her heart beat a little faster as she pulled the jeep into an empty field.

"All right, then. Let's see what you can do as a real vampire."

Celas nodded deftly, smothering a tiny smile. She parked the jeep beside a small hill and slid outside, adjusting her uniform. The night air, usually cool and biting at her exposed flesh, was invigorating, like moonlight-fingertips skating over her. She felt alive, more than ever. Whatever the cause of this bizarre demeanor she couldn't be bothered with it now. She could use the extra energy against the vampires who were finally emerging.

She knew that they were real vampires the moment she laid eyes on them: two men in their late twenties and one teenage boy, each with piercing, bright eyes and fangs protruding over their bottom lips. In any other situation she would have shied away from the unfaltering, intense gazes laid upon her; now, she only stood a little straighter, welcoming them closer. She planted her feet firmly in the earth, keenly aware of the weight of the rifle gun at her hip.

"Hey, there," the teen called, adjusting his cap as he all but swaggered over. "How's it going, girl?"

The two men rolled their eyes. "Forget it, kid," one snorted. "She deserves a _real_ vampire." He turned his attention back to Celas. "Don't you, stranger?"

Celas grinned slightly. "Watch me, Master," she whispered under her breath. And then to the others, "If you think you can have me, show me." Her eyes narrowed as she adjusted her stance, welcoming them forward with a gesture of her hand. "Prove it to me."

The three "suitors" exchanged glances. The teen, predictably, moved first—he wasted no time in charging head on. "No problem there, gorgeous."

Celas dodged to the side; after battling Incognito's ghouls, she'd learned the value of hand to hand combat. Training—and admittedly Garret's encouragements from the night before—had paid off considerably. She easily eluded his outstretched, eager hands, offering only her playful scorn.

"Hey, come on," the youth complained, continuing his attempts as she danced around him. "Just because—"

"Game's over, kid." Celas spun around behind him, wrapping her arms around the teen's neck. A sharp twist and bones snapped, cleanly breaking his neck. Her gun was poised before he cit the ground, ripping his body in a flash of silver bullets until there was nothing left by a splash of disintegrating ash.

The remaining vampires both took a step back—they were fresh, she realized. Neither had ever seen a fellow vampire fall, as was apparent from the startled, almost fearful expressions crossing their faces. Celas smiled grimly. "We're not quite as immortal as you thought, are we?"

"You're…you're Hellsing!" one hollered, stepping back again. "What the hell are you—"

"Hey," Celas protested indignantly, though she was no entirely unaffected by their injustice. "I came out here to test mates, you know." She sniffed. "If I'm only gonna have a kid every hundred years, it better be a good one."

The men returned her gaze nervously, and she…really did feel bad for them, for a moment. Both had come into this without really knowing what the world of vampires was really like. But she couldn't hesitate, not with Alucard watching her. Growling softly she raised her weapon again, firing off round after round into the pair. They screamed as they crumbled into dust to be swept away by the next breeze.

Celas released a sigh as the weapon dropped to her hip. It had been even easier than she'd anticipated, which was somewhat disappointing; she'd been hoping for a more impressive show for her master. But as promised she could still feel his presence beside her, rich and warm, and comforting. She smiled thinly, taking a deep breath to calm herself for when their real target appeared.

The moon slipped soundlessly behind a wisp of cloud, and when the sky cleared a figure stood where they had once been only shadow. He was dressed in khaki pants and a white, button-down shirt, his deep eyes focuses and serious, his hair neatly combed. There was the scent of blood on the air—he had fed recently. Though there was no trace of a meal left on his clothes or lips, Celas could all but smell the bitterness on his breath. It made her a bit anxious.

"Nice night." The vampire stepped closer, ignoring the spaces of trampled earth his peers had occupied a moment ago. "Especially for hunting."

Celas held her ground. If she fell into trouble, Alucard would help her—there was nothing to fear. "You must be Mephistos," she said quietly, tightening her grip on her weapon. "Welcome to England."

"Oh?" This vampire seemed different than most Celas had faced; his features were calm, not arrogant, without inflection or humor. He wasn't like Alucard at all. "What makes you think that?"

"Your accent. You're American."

The man blinked in slight surprise. "There are more vampires in America than just Mephistos, Miss Hellsing."

Celas frowned, but she didn't recoil, even as he was only a few meters away now. "So, you know Mephistos, at least," she surmised. "Where is he? How many did he bring with him?"

"Now hold on," the man tried to calm her, though he did not halt his approach, did not change his even tone. "I know what you are, Hellsing. I didn't follow you out here as one of Mephistos'. I'm here as a fellow vampire."

Celas made an annoyed face. "Yeah, I know why you're here," she muttered.

At last his expression changed—a tiny smile fit into his rounded features. "Then you can't think ill of me."

She snorted. "Men are pigs—even as vampires."

"Maybe," he conceded. "But aren't you enjoying it?"

Celas was taken slightly aback, and it was in that hesitation that the stranger made his move. For an instant she had the feeling of arms wrapped around her waist, a firm body pressing into her from behind. A flash of ivory skated playfully over the back of her throat; she gasped as a thrill ran through her. It was only a brief contact, but she—or, her body, at least—reveled in it.

Alucard was too true to his word—as soon as the American's hands were on her he descended upon the pair, flinging them apart. Celas landed on her stomach, and rolled over just fast enough to see her master digging his hand into the other's shoulder. Her insides twisted inexplicably at the sight.

The vampire did not cry out as his left arm was wrenched from him; he merely fell back with a quiet curse, escaping out of Alucard's range. "So that's how this is," he murmured thickly. "Your master used you as bait all along."

There was something about his tone then that lowered Celas's spirits considerably. She climbed to her feet; her voice was very soft as she replied, "We're just doing our jobs."

His eyes danced to her, briefly, before snapping back to Alucard. "Cheap tricks."

Alucard grinned coldly. "Fitting, for honorless American vampires."

"You know nothing of us," he retorted in sudden defensiveness. He gathered himself to his full height once more, ignoring his lack of limb. "My name is Ballerant, sworn to the right hand of Mephistos. I have been seeking you, Alucard."

A dark mist seeped from the wound in the vampire's shoulder, spilling down his side in curling tendrils. It latched upon the arm that had been ripped from him a moment ago and dragged the limb back to his side, fitting it seamlessly into place. Celas stared—Alucard only smirked. "Your master gave you quite a gift, No Life King," he chuckled.

Celas gasped quietly, drawing closer to Alucard's side. A No Life King…a real Nightwalker, the same power Alucard had once offered her. She pressed her lips thin as Ballerant's gaze skipped to her again. He was still focused on her more than her master.

"I know you may wish to kill me," Ballerant continued slowly, showing no fear before his obvious superior. "But before then, I have a message to deliver on behalf of my master. Mephistos wishes to meet with you, Nosferatu Alucard."

"If this 'Mephistos' knows me," Alucard returned condescendingly, "then he knows I do not require alliances."

"And none have been offered. Only an invitation."

Celas licked her lips. "Master…what's going on?"

Alucard paid her little notice. "You were right about one thing—I will kill you. But before then, I'll hear your master's real name."

Ballerant's eyes narrowed slightly, but he knew better than to defy a vampire such as Alucard. Without falter he calmly replied, "My master's given name is Lorenna."

Celas had, naturally, never heard the name before, but a chill ran through her nonetheless when she saw her master's reaction. Alucard's posture straightened abruptly, and she could see his eyes go wide behind his glasses. He looked…breathless. She'd never seen that face on him before, and she was forced to drop her eyes.

If there was anything worse than seeing that face, it was the quiet eagerness in Alucard's voice. "Take me to her."

Ballerant nodded shortly, then glanced at Celas. "And her?"

"Excuse me," Celas interrupted, trying not to look as lost as she felt. "I have a name. It's Celas Victoria." She took a step closer to Alucard. "And I'm coming, too, since we're still on duty."

Alucard laughed, startling her. "You heard her. She'll drive, you direct her. I'll follow along."

Ballerant eyed Celas mistrustfully, to which she made a face. "Very well," he agreed at last, and he started for the jeep. "Let's go."

Celas glanced up at her Master, wondering at the boyish grin he now wore. He seemed terribly excited to be meeting this vampire; obviously he knew her. But how would Alucard know American vampires? "Um…Master," she began hesitantly. "We're still on duty…."

"Yes, we are," he replied easily, abruptly vanishing. "Go with him. I'll be here."

Celas ground her teeth. "I'm really starting to hate when he does that," she murmured as she took her place once more behind the wheel.

Ballerant glanced at her out of the corner of his eye; though he seemed to have calmed, there was still a gleam of mistrust in that gaze. Celas did her best not to shrink beneath it. "You shouldn't be sulking," she said knowingly. "It wasn't personal." She started the jeep once more and began to drive away from the field.

"I'm not," he replied tersely.

"Well, you're mad we got you, then."

"I should have been mor4e careful." He tipped his head back slightly, as if trying not to look at her again. "Bright Midnight makes us reckless."

Celas blushed around a sour expression. _Men really are pigs. But she couldn't deny that she felt it: the tightness in her gut, the gentle tingle along her spine. And though she didn't like not being in control of her body's responses, she couldn't fight it. Sitting so close to another vampire like this—one a bit closer to her own level than Alucard and seemingly more serious—churned something warm and real inside her. It was almost…nice, despite his stern demeanor, like the time she'd spent with Garret the night before._

Celas cleared her throat. She knew Alucard was still watching, but she wanted to ask her questions while she had the chance. "Why did you come here, to England? You're pretty far from home."

Ballerant blinked slowly. "Like I said—my master wants to meet with yours."

"But…you're a No Life King, aren't you?" she persisted. "Doesn't that mean you have no master?"

"I do not belong to her," he explained crisply. "I was given my power a long time ago. But I have sworn myself to her."

Celas frowned. From what she'd discerned from Alucard, vampires didn't usually form such trusting bonds. The powerful ones could fight on their own, or otherwise raise ghouls to do work for them. She could almost sense Alucard's puzzlement as well, and in an attempt to please him furthered her questions. "That's pretty rare, isn't it? Vampires working together."

"You and your master were working just fine a moment ago," Ballerant returned stiffly.

"Oh. Right." Celas concentrated moment on her driving as she merged onto the highway. "But we're both Hellsing officers—it's our job."

He glanced at her sharply. "Is that an excuse for murdering your own kind?"

"No, I just—"

"You're wasting your time; I won't reveal any of our secrets that easily."

Celas's sour expression deepened. "I was just curious," she muttered. "As a vampire, I'm still pretty young, y'know." She sniffed. "Besides, if your master is so powerful, she doesn't need to worry about me."

Ballerant glanced at her briefly, and for a moment his voice lowered. "It's not you that worries me."

Of course—Alucard was still listening. Celas tried to approach her questions from a different angle, doing her best not to let his deep gaze affect her. "Well, I'm not sure about that. But can you at least tell us what your master wants?"

"No," Ballerant admitted. "Because I don't know. It's not my business."

Celas was about to comment, but realized she had no right to. Alucard didn't always tell her the full truth, either. She knew nothing of the thoughts and intentions of a being thousands of years older than herself. "You must be very loyal," she remarked quietly, "to follow her this far, and risk yourself, not knowing anything."

"You must be as well, to use a vampire's pride as a weapon to kill your own," he retorted.

Celas winced, but before she could think of a response Alucard's voice was sweeping over them. "Watch your tongue," he warmed humorously. "Our tactics are no excuse for you incompetence."

Ballerant tipped his chin up but forwent a reply. Instead he indicated for Celas to take the next exit. "We're going to the Kingston Hotel," he explained. "I'll tell you the room when we get there."

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	5. Chapter 5

**Moonlit ****Midnight******

Chapter 5

All three fell silent for the remainder of the trip. Celas couldn't help but fidget the entire way—Ballerant's presence was still affecting her. He seemed to be suffering the same, as his eyes continued to flicker toward her, gleaming. It was somewhat ridiculous. Celas licked her lips; though she had drank more than he normal allowance earlier, her mouth was still dry. If he only stopped looking at her like that, she'd be fine. If only her heart would stop fluttering, she could ignore him.

When they finally parked outside the hotel Celas all but leapt outside into the night air. A deep breath helped calm her, though she could tell her cheeks were still flushed. "Well," she said briskly, trying to refresh herself. "What now?"

"Follow me." Ballerant led the way inside, giving no notice to the handful of stares accompanying them. Celas followed just beside and behind him—certainly some of the guests had recognized the insignia on her uniform from the incident three months ago. She did her best to look reputable and non-threatening, and was relieved when the elevator door closed them in.

"Your Master must be pretty bold," Alucard said abruptly, and Celas jumped a little when he materialized behind her. "There are a lot of people in town this time of year, in hotels like this."

"Keeping up appearances," Ballerant explained. "It's necessary." They rode that elevator to the top floor—Alucard seemed quite amused by the transportation, and his manner was light and expectant. Celas tried not to notice. As they stepped out and approached the suite a dozen questions and images came over her: she had no idea what to expect. She had known only a few female vampires, and each of them different so greatly…herself included. And an acquaintance of Alucard….

Ballerant knocked lightly at the door, and a moment later was answered by another man—a skinny, angular man with dark eyes and violet-dyed hair. His gaze drifted between Celas and Alucard, as if unsure of who deserved his attention more. He allowed them all inside. "She's been expecting you."

The hotel room was nothing extraordinary—expensive, naturally, and lavishly decorated, but certainly nothing implying the presence of an immortal being. Celas crept timidly inside at Alucard's heel. He was anxious—she could feel it, and it was affecter as well.

When Lorenna emerged from the connecting room it was with no flourish, no impressive display. Her steps were smooth, patient, and graceful, tipped with high heels and bound in a knee length black skirt. Her beauty was modest: long features, low cheekbones, tightly bound auburn hair. Only her eyes stood out as extraordinary, with their fiery red tint that seemed to glow behind her glasses. They alone contested to the immortality stretched out behind her, the inhuman curl of power she held.

Celas lowered her head when she felt her master's posture straighten. Here she was, stuck between possibly two of the oldest creatures on earth. The air was thick and almost warm. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she almost thought that she could feel the emanation of power off of them, like a potent fragrance. It was…oddly intimidating.

Lorenna spoke first—her voice was clipped and precise, unlike the vampires Celas had become accustomed to. "It's been a long time," she said, watching her guest closely. A thin smile curled her wide lips. "I'm a little hurt—I thought you would have noticed me before now." She paused abruptly, like an animal catching a scent, and her sharp eyes flickered to Celas. The younger vampire gulped. "Ah, I see."

Celas ducked into her shoulders, frowning indignantly. Beside her, Alucard chuckled and finally spoke. "I'll admit I've been distracted."

"You're a lucky vampire." She crossed the room in measured strides, and her expression sobered as she lifted her hands to his face. "You haven't changed in all these years," she whispered, awed. "You had me worried."

Alucard wrapped his hands around her wrists, slowly pulling them away. "Celas." She jumped at the sound of her name. "Would you excuse us for a moment?"

"Ma…." Celas bit off her response. This place had suddenly become distant from her; she was starting to feel ill. "Yes, Master," she mumbled humbly at last, taking a step back. "I'll…radio back, and tell them we'll be a while."

He nodded vaguely. "I'll leave it to you." And without another word he stepped away, falling into step behind Lorenna. They disappeared into the adjoining room together.

Celas took a few steps back, feeling off balance now that she was alone with the two men. They were both watching her intensely. "I'm…uh…gonna be right back," she said, quickly fleeing into the hall. Neither made a move to halt or question her.

Once outside the room, Celas allowed herself a deep breath of fresh air. Away from the others' presence the air was chill, and it spread goosebumps up and down her arms. She tried to rub them away. "What is going on, here?" she muttered miserably, leaning her back against the wall. "Master…." For all that he had laughed, and made threats of death-matches between his vampiric comrades, he had greeted Lorenna with respect and affection. He had not even given the third vampire a glance. Celas shook her head in confusion. "I hope Lady Integra doesn't find out about this…."

--

Alucard seated himself with a dull flourish, hat and glasses shed, watching Lorenna's familiar, measured movements. Unlike her earlier statements, she had changed a great deal; there was maturity in her now, the kind of ancient grace a vampire was supposed to have. He smiled. "You grew up, little girl."

Lorenna turned toward him and, chuckling, took a seat of her own. "Times have changed," she replied easily. "You should see in the States—they are all so young, so eager. They need direction."

"And I suppose that's how you came up with the name 'Mephistos'?" he teased. "Catering to these modern brats?"

Lorenna shook her head humorously. "That's for the humans," she explained. "That fool Sanfeld is still looking for a man. He's here now, I understand…?"

"Along with his Mr. Zimmerman," Alucard confirmed. "They're intent on hunting you down—and keeping it a secret from me."

Lorenna returned his gaze with a frown. "Then perhaps he can read me better than I thought. You are the reason I'm here."

"As I imagined." Alucard continued to watch her, a bit of charmed nostalgia gleaming in his eyes. She had still been fresh when he saw her last, a century ago—bold, desperate, and fierce. She had aged well. More than that, though Celas's aura was still distracting him, he cold at last sense the extra fire in her presence. His focus narrowed—he should have thought this through more completely. "You know that I—"

"I'm not here to free you," Lorenna interrupted knowingly. Her voice was quieter just then, as if with regret. It didn't suit her. "I have up on that notion long ago. But…there is something else I can offer you." She pushed out of her seat, moving instead to kneel before him. "My Master—my King. Let me repay you for the immortality you granted me."

----

Celas jumped when the door behind her opened not more than ten minutes later. It was Alucard, looking much as he usually did, with a chuckle in his face. He closed the door behind him without explanation. "We're finished here," he reported, and already his form began to fade. "We'll return to our patrol."

"But Master," Celas protested, "What about…about Ballerant? And the others…?"

By now Alucard had vanished, though his voice remained, a dim echo in the carpeted hall. "They're Americans—they are out of our jurisdiction, for now. Besides, I wouldn't want to deprive Zimmerman the chance to use his amazing new mystery weapon."

A cold sickness welled in the back of Celas's throat. "You mean Mephistos…." She cut herself off before she could finish what he might have considered an offensive inquiry. "All right," she said instead. "I'll…go back to the car." With one last glance at the closed door she made her way out to the parking lot once more.

It wasn't until they were heading back to the institute that Alucard spoke of the entire incident. They had left the main city and were speeding past lines of trees when he materialized suddenly in the passenger seat; Celas nearly leapt out of her skin in surprise.

"We're not reporting in about Mephistos," he told her firmly, though he was smiling.

"Master, don't sneak up on…." Celas trailed off when she realized what he'd said. "You mean…you're not telling Lady Integra?" she questioned, mildly shocked at the prospect.

"She doesn't need to know just yet."

"But…but she's your master," she continued to protest, baffled and wary. "I thought—"

"Lorenna was once one of mine—she deserves more dignified treatment."

Celas gulped—she had feared such an explanation. It made sense, of course, that a vampire as old and powerful as Alucard would have desired a few followers, but everything about all this was making her uneasy. "That's how you knew her…."

"A hundred years ago, just before the origin of Hellsing, I shared my blood with her," Alucard explained. His gaze was cast straight ahead, his smile worn and twisted like a scar. "She was an awkward youth, but loyal and eager." He chuckled. "Not unlike you."

Celas bit back an indignant grunt. "And she's…been living in America?" she asked curiously. "Why is she here? If…I can ask…?"

Alucard tipped his head back. He had been expecting such a question sooner or later. "There's something about Bright Midnight I neglected to tell you," he began to explain, still smiling in that same quiet, all-knowing way. "When it occurs is not dependant on the vampire herself, but the Master who created her. They say it is more convenient for the Master, that way." He chuckled darkly. "Which means that Lorenna, being once one of mine, is also in Bright Midnight. She wants to bare me a child."

Celas sputtered incredulously, and was close to swerving the car in that moment of lost concentration. She curled her fingers tightly around the steering wheel to help keep her steady. That wasn't enough to keep her from exclaiming, "What!? But…but Master, that's…but…."

The old vampire laughed at her reaction; he seemed to be greatly enjoying himself. "I was startled, to say the least," he admitted.

"But…but that's..." Celas continued to sputter. She fought to regain her composure. "Master…but why? I mean…." She blushed furiously. "You didn't…."

Alucard chuckled again. "No; no, we didn't. She was merely proposing the idea."

"How did you answer…?" Her fingers tightened, and her breath caught, but she didn't dare look at him.

Alucard's features twisted devilishly. "I told her I'd consider."

"Oh." Celas sank a little lower in the driver's seat, following the sickened retreat of her stomach. She should have said something—certainly there were dozens of questions she wanted answered. But she couldn't conceive a single inquiry. All she could do was shake her head.

"In any case, there is no need to report them," Alucard continued. "They've done nothing to earn the wrath of Hellsing."

Celas continued to shift. "But Master, won't Lady Integra be upset if she finds out?" she asked timidly. "We're supposed to hunt down Mephistos, after all."

"It wouldn't be the first time I found a way to upset her."

She bit her lips together and fell silent once more, glancing uneasily at his profile. He was smiling—he was enjoying keeping secrets from Integra. As her servant she wouldn't have thought it even possible. Celas, at least, knew she'd never be able to disobey _her master. And as far as children went…shouldn't Hellsing's ancestors thought of things like that? If Alucard wasn't able to hunt on his own, certainly they had thought of his attempts to…._

Celas blushed furiously; all it took were those simple thoughts to spread a dull heat through her flesh. She tightened her fingers and willed her damnable hormones to calm. Alucard was her Master—Alucard had other things to worry about, more important concerns and…interests.

"Master," Celas said abruptly, praying her voice would not tremble. She stared straight ahead, chin high and expression forcibly calm. "You've known Mephistos for—"

"Lorenna," he corrected with a subtle grin. "Mephistos is a name for humans to use, not between us."

Celas gulped—his interruption had spoiled some of her constructed courage. "Lorenna. You've known Lorenna for a long time." She licked her lips. "And since she wants…for you…does that mean…you two were…in love?"

Alucard chuckled softly, and she risked a glance in his direction. He was still smiling, eyes hooded and vague. And when he spoke, he sounded almost…old, for the firs time in her memory. "You have a lot to learn about being a vampire, Celas Victoria."

It wasn't any kind of answer, Celas thought with dull disappointment. She wasn't sure what to make of it. So she stayed her tongue, and kept her eyes trained carefully forward the rest of the way back to the institute. Alucard smiled the whole way.

Celas spent the remainder of the night wandering around the Institute; she knew better than to assume Alucard wouldn't find her if she wasn't in her room, but maybe if she looked busy, purposeful, he would leave her alone. She…wasn't sure she could face him right now.

_"You have a lot to learn about being a vampire, Celas Victoria."_

His words floated back to her, making her cringe as she stepped out of Hellsing's front doors. The sun had risen, but had not yet cleared the line of trees. She closed her eyes a moment to enjoy the warmth. In her months at Hellsing she'd come outside occasionally, tasting a bit of sunlight to keep her refreshed and…human. Now, however, comfort did not come quickly for her. Her stomach was still twisted in anxious knots, and her fingers were cold. She couldn't stop thinking about it.

_"You have a lot to learn, Celas __Victoria__."_

With a half-hearted scowl Celas ventured further outside, trotting down the stone steps, watching the creeping progress of daylight over Hellsing's taller spires, like a spread of dull flame. The image made her shiver. She was sick of fire. She just wanted to find someplace and curl up and sleep for ages….

Her reprieve was cut short when she spotted a dark figure stretched across the Institute's front lawn—some kind of body, by the look of it. She crept forward curiously, and was surprised to see the face of one of the man Integra had introduced her to the other day. A few moment's concentration produced her with his name. "Um…Mr. Zimmerman?" she questioned meekly. "Are you…all right?"

Jacob was laying on his back ion the grass, face upturned, eyes half-closed and peaceful. "I'm fine," he replied softly. She followed his gaze to the tree line. "I'm just waiting for dawn."

"Oh. All right." Celas frowned, shifting on her feet. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

"No, not at all." He glanced at her briefly. "Shouldn't you be inside?"

"I'm all right," Celas replied awkwardly. "I'm not…_really a full vampire, so I'm okay at dawn, at least."_

"Ah, I see. Will you join me?"

"Huh?" She frowned, but after a moment seated herself at his side. It was a bit odd, sitting like this, when this stranger was meant to hunt her kind. Her kind….

She felt like she had met a lot of new people these past few days—these past months. New officers, new commanders, Garret, Ballerant, Mephistos—all of them taking her as their own. All claiming to be "her kind." And h ere she was, a woman vampire sitting calmly next to an American Hunter, waiting for the sun to rise. 

Jacob folded his hands behind his head, the very picture of ease. "You were out with Alucard tonight, weren't you?" he asked suddenly.

Celas sputtered, caught off guard by the sudden question. "Um, yes, I was." She prayed silently that he wouldn't ask—

"I heard you killed three vampires—I read your report. I assume they were all English?"

"Yes," Celas answered quickly. "Yes, of course they were."

Jacob's gaze did not wander from the tree line. "I don't know if Integra told you, but we came hunting an American vampire. We don't even know how powerful he is, only that many vampires are loyal to him. It's a somewhat unusual occurrence among vampires, you know. This city…has some secret for him. Some purpose."

"I see…." Celas bit her lip, wondering if Jacob suspected…but he wasn't even looking at her, and his voice was calm and even. He was just talking. "I'm sorry, sir," she said at last. "I don't know anything."

"I know. It's all right." He closed his eyes. "I'll find him."

They sat silent that way for a while, Celas with her knees tugged against her chest, Jacob Zimmerman stretching out beside her. How curious, that he was so calm; to be so comfortable next to a vampire, especially when the rest of his Institute treated her with such disdain and suspicion. Though maybe her level was so low he didn't consider her worth worrying about.

Nevertheless, it was quiet, and Celas's brain was too filled with questions to let it remain that way for long. "Do you think vampires can love?" she murmured, a question meant only for herself. Somehow it had found a way to her lips, and she was startled by the sound of it. It was already too late to call the words back.

Jacob was eerily silent, his breath even an easy, his face unchanged. He almost looked…asleep. And then his eyes opened, slowly, flickering back to the tree line. "Yes, t hey can," he replied at long last. Celas jumped again at the sound of his voice. "Not commonly, maybe. But possible."

"All of them?" Celas tried to still her questions—she was going to give something away—but she couldn't. She was desperate for answers, wherever she found them. "Even the really…."

He took his time in answering again. "Yes. All of them." Abruptly he sat up, bracing his weight against his palms. "The sun's up."

Celas blinked, and looked for herself; a corner of light was slipping over the trees, bit by bit, to spill over her folded arms. For the first time, she winced; when she glanced down there was a dull red burn dying for forearms. A thrill of panic spread through her, and with a gasp she leapt to her feet. She was stopped before she could think to do anything else, however, by a firm hand on her shoulder. Jacob was standing before her, his larger form blocking her from the sun.

"You're all right," he told her calmly. He smiled. "Let's go inside. We should both be sleeping."

Celas ducked her head, feeling ashamed and somewhat sick. The sun, since her change, had always left a bit of a tingle in her flesh, but it had never burned her. She couldn't think of what had changed until…she licked her lips. In a moment of intuition she remembered the taste of fresh, warm blood—Agent Varjak's blood. The first blood she had taken from a living human.

"It seems," Jacob said quietly, "that you may be more of a vampire than you thought."

Celas gulped, her gaze lowering slightly. But…she wasn't as surprised, as upset as she should have been. She…was a little more of a vampire. And though she couldn't help a flash of uncertainty, she wondered if Alucard would be proud of her for that.

Alucard rapped his hand lightly against the cold stone, imagining what its texture might have felt like against his real skin. His fingers curled slightly, so that his glove-bound fingernails quivered when drawn over the old cracks and stone seams. He knew these walls so well by now, every inch and blemish. Every breath of air, every step. This was his castle, his homely prison. High above, his master slept peacefully in the cradle of dawn. And below, the twisting tendrils of his seal's power bit at the base of his skull. The weight of a thousand years' memories swirled, fog-like, behind his eyelids. He did not lose himself easily to this sort of reprieve, for in truth he was not greatly disturbed by his present standing. He was supplied with ample nourishment and amusement, which was all he required. He was still respected, often feared, and despised by a few. Such was the eternal existence of vampires, and should he ever come to regret the seals branded against his palms, they were only in brief fits of dull fury, of stirred resentment that passed as easily as a breath of cool, night-changed air.

He was satisfied, here.

Lorenna had tried to free him, once. When her power was yet fresh, and her heart full of fire, she had laid siege to Hellsing in its fledgling years. He had stopped her, by use of all his tricks, and cast her away in a guise of death. Hiding her survival from his master was the greatest courtesy he could show her, as sure as he hid her now. She was, after all, one of the last that even remembered his given name.

Alucard was drawn from his thoughts by the sound of a name spoken; that of his own, last vampire. He attuned his senses in time to catch the last of the conversation. 

"—out for her. There's something she's not telling you."

"I hope you're not implying that our Miss Celas is capable of deception, sir."

"I don't want to imply anything. But she's been fed recently, and not by you. Just keep track of what she's eating."

"I understand, sir."

Eyes thinning slightly, Alucard investigated the matter. He slipped through the wall just in time to see Jacob striding briskly away, Walter watching his retreat. He had been hoping to avoid a situation like this; he should have also known better than to underestimate Jacob Zimmerman's intuition. All the same he was grinning when he greeted Hellsing's faithful retainer. "Is our friend causing trouble already?"

Walter glanced at him with a thin smile. "Nothing quite so dramatic. Though he was expressing some concern in Miss Celas's behavior. Something about her being affected by the sun…?"

"She's my vampire," Alucard replied simply. "It was bound to start affecting her sooner or later." It was true enough. Not the proper explanation, but truth nonetheless.

"I suppose so." Walter didn't sound entirely convinced—and good for him—but the matter passed easily. He did, after all, trust Celas, and her master. In that slight betrayal Alucard felt no guilt.

"You're up late, old man," Alucard teased, cocking his head to the side. "I thought you would have left care of our Lady Integra in the hands of the dear Mr. Zimmerman."

Walter returned him with a doubting expression. "Hellsing may be fond of Mr. Zimmerman," he related evenly, "but that has no effect over my duties."

"Of course not." The vampire smirked. "I should thank you more often, for taking such good care of my master. It saves me trouble," he said ironically.

To this Walter chuckled, adjusting his monocle. "At the risk of offending you, it is not for you that I do so. Serving Integra is my duty, and my privilege."

"Ah, perhaps." Alucard's smile curled dryly at the edges. "It'll be a shame when that human life of yours runs out, Walter," he said, crossing his arms. "One last battle would be appropriate, don't you think? A lasting legacy for the Angel of Death I once knew."

Walter's smile deepened, and he faced Alucard with the amused wisdom of the old. "Serving and protecting my master until the end of her days is my only duty now," he told the other. "Her children will be my legacy."

Alucard stopped, his eyes widening a moment behind his glasses at those words. Walter couldn't have known anything, and yet…. The vampire smiled, slow and subtle. "Yes, you're right," he murmured, tugging his hat a little lower over his face. "That's very true."

"Sir Alucard?"

"It's nothing." He chuckled. "Integra's children will be rambunctious little rascals. They should make for interesting masters someday."

Walter was forced to agree. "It would be nice, to watch the growth of another Hellsing," he admitted nostalgically.

"Sorry, Walter. I don't share my blood with old men." Alucard laughed and took a step back, preparing to depart. "And don't worry about that police-girl—I'll look after her well enough." Without waiting for a reply he slipped backwards into the wall from whence he'd came, and from there returned to his coffin. He had reached his decision. And even if it meant another defiance, another imprisonment, it mattered not. In the end, he would merely be awoken by another child of Hellsing.

To Next Chapter

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	6. Chapter 6

**Moonlit Midnight**

Chapter 6

Integral overlooked the loading of Hellsing's trucks with a calm, even eye. This would be their first full scale operation since the disaster at the Tower of London, and it would be a lie to say she wasn't concerned. Not because of Jacob's warnings—though she always took his advice to heart, she was determined not to let his worries affect her. The operation would be high profile with a great danger of civilian intervention: an hour earlier, she had been contacted on behalf of Oxford University's Dean of Students. As far as her reports would relate, the campus had been sealed off due to a disturbance of unknown origin—that being the presence of ghouls, she speculated. 

"Teenage vampires," Integra snorted. "They must be fresh. Always the worst kind."

Walter stepped up beside her, giving a short bow. "The troops have been prepared, Lady Integra. Miss Victoria is waiting for you to speak to her, as per your request. No one has seen Sir Alucard sine I last spoke with him, this morning."

Integra pursed her lips. "I see. He couldn't still be asleep at this hour." She glanced across Hellsing's grounds just in time to see Jacob Zimmerman boarding one of the trucks; he wasn't wearing his usual brown suit. He was armed. She snorted. "He'll hear from me later. For now, we should be able to manage. He'll show up when he feels like it, as always." She turned to face her retainer squarely. "Tell me about Agent Victoria."

"I've had to change her status as an officer," Walter reported crisply. "Mr. Zimmerman reported that she is no longer able to move about in dawn and twilight hours. IT may be only temporary—Sir Alucard was not concerned."

"If she's changing, it will need to be investigated," Integra mused. "But we don't have the time now."

"Do you still want to talk to her?"

"No. I'll speak to her after this operation is complete." Integra turned away, heading toward the awaiting vehicle. "Just make sure she's ready for tonight."

"Yes, ma'am."

---

Celas shifted her weight uncertainly from foot to foot, the Halconnen Cannon clasped tightly to her side as she waited. She'd awoken for duty that night only to have Walter summon her to participate in a real operation. But after the briefing she hadn't been dismissed to join the others, and now this waiting was making her nervous. She was thoroughly relieved when Walter called her over.

"It's all right," he said with a gentle smile. "Please join the unit now. Commander Wellerune is waiting."

Celas nodded, hefting her weapon and being quick to board the truck with her comrades. The American soldiers among them eyed her weapon doubtfully. She only smiled shyly and ducked her head. Were she in better spirits she might have remarked. But she couldn't sense Alucard's familiar presence, which merely reminded her….

_"You have a lot to learn, Celas Victoria."_

She shook her head; this mission was important, and she couldn't afford to be distracted.

--

By the time Hellsing reached the scene of its newest mission, the University had already been surrounded by local authorities and several representatives from the media. Celas watched all the people shifting about with some degree of awe and dread; this amount of publicity wouldn't be good for Hellsing's current reputation. She wondered vaguely what Lady Integra must have thought of it all—and Alucard, were he even here.

Commander Wellerune stepped outside; the soldiers remained, chatting quietly among themselves as they awaited their orders. Celas checked her weapon again out of nervous habit. Something didn't quite feel right; her stomach was twisting anxiously, and her fingertips felt hot. She had fought worse battles than this—there was no need for concern, especially with the soldiers from Mithril 6 backing them up. Still, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in her gut.

Several minutes later the transport was boarded again, this time by Jacob Zimmerman. Celas ducked slightly to keep from being spotted, though the effort was somewhat laughable considering her telltale weaponry. He called her up to the front, and she had no choice but to comply. "Sir?"

"Miss Victoria," he greeted in a clipped, militaristic manner. She was a bit taken back, as he had seemed so much more laid back the other times she'd met him. His attire had changed as well; from the trimmed brown suit to tight fitting, solid black pants and sleeveless turtleneck. A pair of what appeared to be some kind of daggers was sheathed at the small of his back, and a pistol was strapped to his thigh. He looked like some kind of American comic character, and Celas couldn't help but stare. But by then he was talking, and she shook herself to listen.

"You're coming with my unit," he instructed briskly. "We're heading for the interior. Our reconnaissance shows they have a concentration of ghouls in there—that's your job. Understood?"

Celas straightened. She wasn't used to taking orders from this man, and there was something unnerving about it; he was watching her very closely. With the light from the surrounding vehicles glaring back at them, his eyes seemed to gleam unnaturally. "Yes, sir," she managed. "What about…the other officers?"

"They other squad is under the command of Wellerune, and if all goes well you won't have to worry about them." Jacob started away from the truck, and without thinking she obediently followed. "They're our support. Varjak and I will handle the vampires. You take the ghouls."

"Yes, sir." Celas pursed her lips and adjusted her grip on the Halconnen.

"Good. We'll work well together." He smiled over his shoulder at her, but the expression looked forced, and she returned it accordingly. As a pair they approached Integra, who was waiting with several of the local officers, along with Walter, Mark Sanfeld, and Agent Varjak. Celas grimaced beneath the latter's stare.

"Victoria," Integra greeted evenly. "I trust you've been briefed."

"Yes, Ma'am." She hesitated a moment before asking, "What about Master Alucard?"

Integra snorted derisively. "He'll show up when it suits him, and hear plenty from me about it."

"We won't need him anyway," Varjak interrupted tersely. "Let's just finish this."

Sanfeld placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "The three of you together should be fine, but I have our van parked at the west entrance, in case you need it."

"Which means," Jacob added, "that you, Victoria, are not to go near it. You'd be in danger."

Celas nodded begrudgingly. "Yes, sir."

Integra glanced between the trio, seeming to be satisfied. "If you get into any trouble, radio immediately. We'll have a unit standing by to assist you."

Jacob flashed her a grin—looking much more like himself for that brief moment. "Roger." He slapped Varjak on the shoulder, who scowled, and started toward the police line. "We'll be back in an hour," he called.

Celas fell into step behind him, ducking under the sharp gazes of the surrounding police. They must have made up a very odd trio. And suddenly, despite all that had happened the night before, she was desperately wishing Alucard were there to look after her as promised.

--

Alucard seated himself elegantly on the roof of the Hellsing Institute, watching the slow progress of mist-like clouds over a too brought half-moon. He was smiling and in good spirits. How simple it was to elude his master—though he could never disobey her directly, she couldn't give him orders if she couldn't find him. Of course, this weak freedom would not last long. His prison walls were solidly in place, and when Integra called for him he would have no choice but to comply. Which she had a habit of not doing until the last moment. 

The vampire grinned, revealing sharpened fangs. Despite all the anxious energy boiling beneath his surface, he managed not to fidget or stir. Far away, on the edge of his sense, he could still taste the faint, familiar fragrance of his female officer. "Forgive me, Celas Victoria," he chuckled, tilting his head down as a new figure stepped out onto the Institute steps. His grin widened. "I don't mean to disappoint you."

---

The Halconnen shell exploded on impact, scattering half a dozen of the changed ghouls in all directions. The upper torso of one such creature landed at Celas's feet; she crushed its skull under her boot. "I'm going to do this," she told herself deftly, loading another projectile to incinerate the remaining enemies. She lifted her weapon with one hand and fired. "I'm going to take care of myself. I can do this." Pressing her lips thin she investigated, finishing off the ghouls with boots and fists. They were a tough breed—they had greater stamina than the freak-bred ghouls they'd fought at Hellsing, or in the Tower of London. Real vampires had made these.

"They're students," Jacob said thoughtfully behind her. He nudged a smoldering corpse with his feet. "Most of them are barely clothed—they were sleeping when this happened."

Beside him, Varjak cast her gaze across the courtyard. "It's quiet," she murmured. "There's more than one vampire here—they're hiding. WE should have been attacked by now."

"I agree. And I don't like it." He stayed very still, as if waiting for something. A full minute had passed before he spoke again. "Agent Victoria. Varjak." He sent the latter a meaningful stare. "Split up and search the dorms for survivors. And keep track of all the ghouls you kill—we'll need to deliver the list to the Dean once we're through."

"Yes, sir," both complied. Celas started to leave, then paused when she realized Jacob wasn't moving. Varjak wasn't commenting, as would have seemed natural for her. Something was going on. She snorted to herself as she continued on her assigned mission, approaching one of the dorms. "Damn Americans, making plans without me." She rolled her eyes. "I'm an officer too, you know."

Celas quieted down when she approached close enough to see the "gentlemen only" sign posted on the dormitory door. She gulped quietly, even though it was a ridiculous concern. Having never attended college, she'd never been in a dorm, let alone a boy's dorm. With a deep breath she pushed inside.

---

Lorenna swept into the Institute without flourish or announcement, unnoticed by the officers left behind as sentries. They saw only a shadow of her passing—a wisp of cloud, of dull, clear vapor not unlike a trail of thin steam. Some did not see the gentle shimmer against the night; some mistook it for the passing of their own, tamed vampire. Only one was given cause for alarm, and was silenced without incident in a flash of silent fangs. The mist then swept on, descending through labyrinthine stone corridors, deeper into Hellsing's dungeon.

Alucard, now poised on the edge of his coffin, lifted his head expectantly as the door to his chambers swung open. He blinked slowly at the form revealed. "Is that the style in America now?" he chuckled. "Charming."

Lorenna stepped forward into dim candlelight. She was dressed simply, in a short, black skirt and low cut red velvet halter-top. She grinned subtly as he rose to meet her. "This is your first date in a hundred years," she teased. "I wanted to look good for you."

"We didn't call it 'dating' back then." Alucard watched with amusement as she removed his hat and glasses for him. "It was 'courtship.'"

"That's hardly what this is, though," she calmly retorted. Her eyes were gleaming and bright as she leaned into him, curling the fingers from one hand with his. The feel of the seals scrawled across his gloves was almost burning, and with a quiet snort she thrust her thumb through the center of his palm; even if it wasn't enough to disturb the markings on its other side. Alucard didn't flinch, only watching as she lifted his bloodied hand to her lips. She grinned. "I suppose you could say it's more like a one night stand."

Alucard chuckled again, turning his wrist so that his blood fell more easily into her waiting mouth. "How inelegant." He tugged her forward slowly, deliberately, and sunk his teeth into her full lips. He pulled back only after licking them clean. "Perhaps we'd best not presume to determine labels."

Lorenna grinned. "Yes, perhaps you're right," she murmured, as she leaned in for a proper kiss.

--

The dormitory was eerily quiet; for a building that usually held over two hundred people, finding it empty was creepier than she'd expected. She searched a few rooms on the first floor and found nothing, save that the doors were either unlocked or kicked in, and more rooms showed sign of a struggle. There were, oddly enough, no ghouls about. With this many people being turned, they should have been crawling all over. The second floor was the same. "Where is everyone?" Celas complained as she moved upstairs. "Americans and their plans. This was a grand idea."

When Celas stepped onto the third floor, however, something twisted in her stomach. It was a familiar, urgent excitement—there was a vampire here. She immediately fell silent as she crept down the hall. Though she would have liked to be frustrated with her body's increasingly severe reactions, it was actually a convenient warning. Her hands tightened around the Halconnen. "I know you're in here," she murmured. As soon as the vampire showed up, she would have to lead it back to Jacob; the cannon would be too slow to hit it. Gulping, she continued forward.

She only made it a few more steps down the hall when a pair of footfalls echoed down to her. She spun about, not knowing what to expect. The attack came from behind. A heavy force slammed into her back, and she stumbled but didn't fall—a hand snatched her shoulder a moment later and dragged her back. The Halconnen was wrenched from her grasp as she was thrown face first into the nearest wall. It all happened before she could take in a full breath, and before she realized what had happened she was pressed up against cold plaster, wrists pinned, a firm body holding her in place.

"Keep quiet," a low, familiar voice hissed in her ear. The feeling of cold breath made her tremble. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Celas gasped softly when she realized who was holding her captive. "Ballerant! What are you—"

"Quiet," he snapped, and involuntarily she flinched and did so. He waited a few seconds to make sure she kept still. "Good. I'm going to let you go. Keep your voice down and don't try to fight me. You know I'm stronger than you."

Celas clenched her fists and nodded. Slowly Ballerant released her wrists. He did not, however, step back as far as she thought he ought to have; he was close enough that she couldn't have leaned forward at all without hitting him. She pressed her back against the wall in hopes of gaining some space. "What's going on?" she demanded. "What are you doing here?"

Ballerant snorted. "I told you to keep your voice down," he reminded her. "And I do intend to explain, but I won't be able to if you waste time complaining. Come with me." He stepped abruptly away, crossing the hall to an open, empty room. Though Celas hated to give him the satisfaction of her obedience, she followed.

"Your soldiers will be here soon, so I must be brief," the vampire said briskly as he moved to the window. "It's against my better judgment to tell a Hellsing officer anything, but Alucard insisted that I look out for you."

"Master did?" Celas stared at him blankly, a thrill of heat running through her. She ducked her head. "But…why? Where is…?"

She trailed off when Ballerant merely looked at her. She knew very well where Alucard was, whom he was with. They both knew now. Celas took a step back in disbelief. "No, but Master—"

'Zimmerman already knows why we're here," Ballerant was saying, and she fell silent in frustration. She joined him hesitantly as the window and followed his gaze to where Jacob stood alone in the courtyard. "We're buying time. He must have realized by now—he always does. But he can't do anything, because he won't leave as long as we're here. His only choice is to kill us and trust Alucard. He knows that."

"Where are the students?" Celas asked softly. She wanted to be defiant, or appalled, or anything other than the timid uncertainty and confusion she was now. "Why aren't there any ghouls here?"

"There was no need to turn them all," Ballerant replied, as if it were obvious. "The third rule of Lorenna's following is to feed only when hungry. We changed as many as was necessary to lure all of Hellsing here, and herded the rest into the basements."

Celas took another step back. "You're lying," she challenged, though she still could not raise her voice to any semblance of courage. "Vampires aren't—"

"A vampire that kills its own ahs no right to tell me what our kind is and is not," he interrupted. "We're here for our master, and that's what matters. I'll no ask you to understand. Look." He indicated the window.

Celas moved closer again reluctantly. Jacob was still in the courtyard, this time not alone; a squad of soldiers was stopped with him. Jacob spoke to them swiftly and pointed toward the dorm they were in. With a quiet gasp Celas pushed away from the window. If she was found conversing so easily with her supposed target….

Before the soldiers could follow their instructions, however, there was a scream among them, and Celas found herself again pressed against the window. It was the teenager from the hotel room the other night; he struck with spectacular speed, smashing the skulls of two of the guards together before the others could turn to fire. He then retreated into the shadows between a pair of nearby buildings.

Celas bit her lip; she couldn't stay here any longer. Whatever was really going on—whatever…Alucard was thinking—these were her comrades, and she couldn't stand idly by anymore. Even if it meant fighting…her own kind. While Ballerant appeared distracted by the battle she sprinted abruptly out into the hall. Her hand closed tightly around her Halconnen. In an instant she'd spun about, weapon ready to fire as soon as Ballerant emerged. But he didn't come out, even as gunfire continued to rattle outside. Eyes narrowing in determination Celas investigated, only to find the vampire having fled.

"Damn him." Celas shouldered the cannon and smashed the window open; it was only the third story, and as she'd learned, dropping to the ground gave her little trouble. There she stopped, sharpening her senses for any sign of the vampire. It was no use—he was gone. "Coward." Scowling, Celas joined her comrades as they awaited the appearance of the second target.

"Hold your fire!" Jacob ordered. Once the gunfire had died down he signaled for silence and walked forward several steps. He rested a hand on the handle of his dagger. "All of you, don't fire unless I say so."

Celas frowned at the man. If he planned to right the vampire alone, he was making a foolish mistake. When she started to speak, however, he was already raising his radio to his lips. "Varjak. Where are you?"

"Right here, sir," came the clipped response.

It was no kind of answer, but Jacob nodded as if he understood, and tossed the radio back to Celas. "Don't interfere," he warned without facing her.

Celas bristled. "Sir, I don't know what you're implying, but—"

This time Jacob did look back; his eyes were gleaming and cold. "As soon as we're done here, I'm reporting you," he told her sternly. She blinked, and caught herself before she could take a step back. "I know you've spoken to Mephistos. I know where she is."

Celas didn't have the chance to reply. As soon as Jacob stopped speaking a shadow darted out across the courtyard, racing toward him. With greater speed than Celas had thought a human capable of he turned, firing off several shorts from the pistol she never saw him draw. The vampire dodged, and closed in with a hand outstretched.

Celas's finger curled involuntarily around the trigger of her cannon, but she didn't fire yet. There was hardly any time to. Jacob moved; she couldn't well see what he'd done, but in a flurry of silver and gun smoke the vampire's arm was severed, and he fell back, growling. The shot that split his skull open came from behind. The vampire reeled; Jacob charged, his second dagger flying from its sheath to bury in its heart. Celas could only stare as their target creamed, incinerated by another barrage of close range gunfire.

It…hadn't even taken a full minute. Jacob took a step back and flicked the bits of ash off his daggers; every movement smooth, almost casual, as if he had done nothing more extraordinary than taking out his garbage. Celas jumped a little when he plucked the radio from her. "Varjak. Nice shot."

"Screw you, Zimmerman. I'm coming in."

"Roger."

Celas fidgeted nervously. He…had promised to report her; he couldn't have known all that she was trying to hide. There was simply no way.

But when Jacob turned, when his eyes fell on her, she shrank away. Something almost snapped inside her. "You're…." She gulped, stepping back further. "You're not human."

Jacob marched forward, taking her sharply by the arm. She couldn't help but cringe at the strength of that grip. "Last night you and Alucard killed three vampires," he said darkly. "You told me there were no Americans—you lied."

"But I—" Celas started to protest.

"You lied," he repeated. "I know you, vampire—I know you lied. And then you asked me something."

Celas tried to pull away—the soldiers were staring at them, and Varjak was approaching with a sneer. She remembered; she'd asked him about love. If vampires could love. "Mr. Zimmerman, please, I—"

"She's here—that was _her _vampire, wasn't it? She's already contacted Alucard. Hasn't she?"

"Zimmerman," Varjak interrupted angrily. "What the hell is going on?"

Jacob didn't answer at first—he was watching Celas with a piercing gaze. She couldn't bring herself to pull away, to even breathe. At long last she lowered her head. "I'm…I'm sorry."

At first he didn't seem satisfied, and she winced, expecting more of his questions. Even though he already knew. To her relief he let her go. But then he was raising the radio to his mouth again, and her apprehension returned. "Integra, we've been played," he said quickly. "Mephistos isn't here, but I know where she is."

"What's going on?" Integra demanded on the other end. "What do you mean, 'she'?"

"I'll explain later. Leave a squad to clean up the rest of the ghouls—we have to get back to Hellsing."

There was a long pause on the other end, and in that silence Jacob turned to Celas. "Give your weapon to Agent Weiss," he instructed. 

Celas returned his gaze with attempted defiance. But when he stepped toward her again she lost her nerve, and reluctantly complied. She smiled a little when the soldier nearly fell over from the weight of it. Her humor fled once more, however, when Jacob said, "Agent Varjak, take Miss Victoria into custody."

"What?" Celas exclaimed. "I'm a Hellsing officer. You have no right—"

Jacob's radio sparked to life and cut her off. "There's been no report at Hellsing," Integra was saying tersely. "I don't know what you're thinking, but—"

"Alucard still isn't here," he persisted. He made a motion towards Varjak, who stepped forward with a snort and drew her gun. The barrel dug harshly into Celas's temple. "The vampire's been taken care of—this was a distraction. I guarantee you, Mephistos is already there."

Another pause, shorter than the first. Celas shifted in disbelief of all that was happening. If they returned to Hellsing, if they found Lorenna with Alucard…. She shuddered, glancing around the courtyard in panic. Somehow, Jacob knew. And it was her fault. "Master…."

"We're pulling out," came Integra's voice at last. "Tell the squad there to remain—we're leaving a small detachment. Get back here with your agent Victoria."

"On our way." Jacob flicked his radio off and turned to Agent Weiss. Without too much trouble he lifted Celas's cannon over his shoulders. "Keep your eye on her," he instructed Varjak as he started out of the courtyard.

"Yes, sir." Varjak grinned humorlessly and jabbed the barrel of her gun into her captive's back. "Come on," she prodded, enjoying her assignment too much. "Get moving, blood sucker."

Celas bit her lip and complied; she could at least attempt to retain some dignity. As they walked, she watched Jacob's back—the shift of muscle, the unfaltering stride. "He's not human," she half-murmured to herself.

"Not quite," Varjak agreed contemptuously. She, too, glared after him, her eyes narrowed and grim. "They say his mother was turned just after birthing him. Baby raised on a vampire's milk—vampire's blood. He's no better than one of them, as far as I'm concerned."

Celas frowned. "But that's…not possible. Isn't it?" She abandoned her inquires when she saw Jacob's gait shift; he had heard them. She dropped her gaze. So Jacob Zimmerman wasn't quite human after all. That didn't explain very much, but she had more important things to worry about. "Master…." She closed her eyes briefly, though she couldn't begin to imagine what she was hoping for. Everything was spinning around her too swiftly. All she could do was pray everything would turn out all right.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Moonlit Midnight**

Chapter 7

Integra waited impatiently for the trio to return, her eyes narrowed and sharp, fingers curled stiffly around a fresh cigar.  As always, Walter stood obediently beside her.  She barely noticed him; she was glancing continuously between the university and Mark Sanfeld.  "He said 'she'," she reminded him.

"So I heard," he replied shortly.

She took another breath of her cigar.  "He told me Mephistos was a man."

"He told me that, too."

Walter tried to catch her eye, but she ignored him; Jacob, Varjak, and Celas were approaching.  Her already tight expression darkened when she saw the gun pointed at her officer.  She waited for them to stop before her.  "Explain."

Jacob set a hand firmly on Celas's shoulder and pushed her forward.  "I think Miss Victoria can explain better," he said, though his gaze never left Integra's face.

Integra's eyes narrowed; she didn't like these games, and she disliked even more how Jacob was treating her officers and her institute.  Her protests were silenced when she saw Celas's guilty expression.  Something was going on that she hadn't known about.  "Agent Victoria?"

Celas flinched.  "Ma'am," she acknowledged weakly.

"Are you hiding something from me?"

The younger woman licked her lips nervously.  "Master—Alucard—told me not to…."  She lowered her head faintly.  "He's my master, so I…."

Integra scowled; she didn't believe her.  Whatever was happening, she refused to believe that Alucard would so blatantly betray them.  She blew a slow stream of smoke; beside her, Sanfeld shifted his weight impatiently.  "And where is Alucard now?"

"I don't know.  But…I think he's with Mephistos."

Integra glanced briefly at Jacob, whose face was calm and unreadable.  "And Mephistos is a woman?"

Celas hesitated.  "Yes," she confessed.  "They…called her Lorenna."

"'They.'  Her vampires?"

"…Yes, Ma'am."

Another ring of smoke.  "What does she want with Alucard?"

This time Celas didn't answer.  She shuffled her feet, bit at her lips, and would not lift her gaze.  Soon enough Integra's patience thinned.  "Forget it," she said, turning away.  "We'll return to Hellsing.  Agent Victoria will be confined to her quarters until she can be formally questioned."

"…Yes, Ma'am," came the timid response. 

Integra snorted as she led them back to the trucks that had been brought them to begin with.  As she'd expected, Jacob fell into step beside her.  "Not now," she nearly snapped.  "This is no time for 'I told you so'."

"This morning Victoria asked me if I believed vampires can love," he told her anyway.  His words raised a certain degree of anxiety in her, and she waited for him to continue.  "All of them.  I suspected she meant Alucard."

"Don't be absurd," she retorted.  "Celas is only a few months changed—Alucard is over two thousand years old.  Don't even begin to compare them."  She waited for Walter to open the door of her car for her, and slipped inside.  But Jacob was nothing if not stubborn, and he let himself into the passenger seat.  She rolled her eyes.  "Jacob—"

"I was right, wasn't I?" he challenged, holding up a hand to quiet Walter's protests.  "We were wrong about Mephistos—we didn't suspect it was a woman—but she's here, and she came for Alucard, just like I said."

"I don't have time for this."  She signaled to Walter, who cast Jacob a perturbed look before taking his seat behind the wheel.  "I'm going to take care of your vampire, Jacob.  Now shut up and you can fill me in when we debrief."

---

Alucard opened his eyes; slowly, deliberately, taking in the shadowed space of stone above him.  He could feel a ripple of magic, and a voice, echoing in the back of his mind.  An approaching scent.  "They're back," he reported evenly.

"Then I've lingered too long.  It won't be as easy leaving as it was coming in."

"There is only so much I can do for you now."

"I know."  Lorenna pushed gracefully to her feet.  She reached behind her, undoing the clip that held her hair in place.  With a shake of her head it cascaded in dark waves over her shoulders.  "I know."

---

By the time they arrived again at the Hellsing Institute Celas felt positively ill.  She couldn't quell the twisting uncertainty in her gut; the air tasted thick and sour, and she shook her head several times as if that would clear it.  This couldn't really be happening.  But every time she'd convinced herself just that—whenever she managed to believe they weren't really on their way to confront Alucard—she raised her eyes into Agent Varjak's cold glare. The American hadn't diverted her attention for even a moment, and it wasn't helping Celas's nerves.  No one should ever have the right to look that smug.  She was bitterly relieved when they halted at last, allowing her to step outside and into some fresh air.

Integra had already left her car nearby and was straightening her suit.  She looked calm as always.  Jacob was another story—as soon as his feet were on solid ground he was on the move again, shouting orders to the other drivers pulling in.  One of the vehicles—one pulling in backwards—was one she had never seen before.  Integra didn't look happy about it, either.  "What's going on?" Celas asked, not really expecting an answer.  "What is that?"

"If you're real lucky, you'll find out," Varjak sneered.  She pushed Celas forward.  "Come on."

The soldiers began to start toward the institute, but Integra held out a hand abruptly to stop them.  Her eyes were narrowed and cold.  When Celas followed that sharp gaze, her insides froze.  Hellsing's broad doors were spread wide, framing the outline of a familiar, shadowed figure.  His hat and glasses had been shed, his fangs bared in a grin.  And though he looked no different than any time had ever seen him, something about the dangerous gleam in his eyes made her tremble.

Alucard lifted his chin.  "Welcome home," he greeted darkly.  "My Master."

"Alucard."  Integra's voice was the only sound in the yards, and it echoed eerily among her soldiers.  "What is the meaning of this?"

He blinked deliberately.  "What do you mean?"

Integra held out her hand, palm up, and Commander Wellerune obediently slipped a loaded handgun into it.  She leveled it without hesitation at Alucard.  "Where is Mephistos?"

Another slow blink.  "I don't know anyone by that name."

Integra took a menacing step forward.  "Do not defy me," she barked.  "Tell me where the vampire Lorenna is!"

Alucard didn't flinch, but his eyelid twitched just slightly, and his gaze flickered momentarily to Celas.  She shrank back in shame—he knew what she had done.  She curled a hand over her twisting gut and tried to pay attention for when his response came.

Alucard's fingers clenched just barely, even as the humor never left his face; he could not lie to her.  "Ahh.  That, at least, is easy enough.  She's right here with me."

Something twisted in the darkness behind him, no more than a dull flicker of absent light, and then he was gone.  Celas had done no more than blink, once, and then her master was across the courtyard in a blur of red and fangs.  She could smell the blood before she saw the soldiers fall, shredded and silent; the sound of their artillery clanging against the pavement sounded like the ringing collapse of broken marionettes.  And Alucard stood over them, licking at the blood that had seeped into the corners of his mouth.

The courtyard fell into a panic with the sounds of gunfire.  Celas couldn't see much of what was happening—a flash of crimson, a broken limb—and could hear even less, save Varjak's growling curses at her ear.  All she could think, as Alucard's laughter rose over the thunder, was she couldn't believe this was happening.  No matter what she had done—whatever betrayal—it shouldn't have come to this.  

"Master…."  She couldn't make her voice rise above a whisper, so that it was stolen from even her ears.  "Please, stop…."

Integra, meanwhile, was watching transfixed as Alucard decapitated another soldier with a clean swipe of his hand.  She knew better than to lose her wits; she had seen Alucard's power released in full, where this childish display was incomparable.  It was different, however, watching the human blood that slid over the vampire's pale flesh, the bone splinters that clung to his gloves and coat.  He was moving swiftly through groups of men in streaks of angry white and red, tearing flesh with his bare hands.  She took a step back without realizing.  Alucard was betraying her.  She clung to that injustice, that anger, to call back her courage.  "Alucard!"  She planted her feet and clenched her fists, determined not to falter.  "Damn you, Alucard, face your master!"

The vampire halted.  All around the gunfire died down, until only Alucard was left standing within the wide circle of men.  Blood coated his already scarlet garb; most of it his own, spilled from dozens of gunshot wounds that riddles his torso and limbs.  His left arm dangled, a length of mangled flesh, at his side; his jaw was slightly askew; a clump of his scalp landed with a sick, wet thud on the ground.  None of these things bothered him as he turned towards his master.  With eyes gleaming he approached in slow, measured steps.  His shadow twisted oddly in the vehicle headlights.

Integra held her ground beneath his heavy gaze, his humorous stare.  How dare he—how _dare he mock her in this place.  She would have struck him had she thought it would affect him.  "Alucard," she said firmly once he had stopped, no more than a step away.  "I have not authorized the breaking of your seals."_

He blinked what was left of his eyelids.  "I have not broken any seals," he replied evenly.

"You hid your intentions from me," she snapped, shaking with rage.  "I am your master—how dare you conspire against me!"

Alucard reached out suddenly, his hand closing around the front of Integra's blouse and tugging her forward.  She did not fight even as the stench of blood and decay swept over her.  She would not fear him—he belonged to her.  And she knew his words before he spoke them.  "Are you sure you don't want to taste my blood?"

Integra's face contorted, but before she could lift her voice against him she caught a shift of movement to her left, like a latch being lifted, a door being opened.  She realized what was happening too late; someone was pulling her back, tearing her from Alucard's grip.  Then the light came.  She had the presence of mind to close her eyes before the intensity could blind her; her sight flared blood-bright red, and a moment later a gloved hand had shielded her from the glare.

Celas reacted a moment too late; she threw her arms over her face and stumbled away, but her skull was already throbbing as if burned.  "Master—"  Her voice was drowned out by the resumed thunder of gunfire.  "Master!"  She tried to lower her hands, to see, but her eyes protested and were filled with tears.  Varjak was pulling at her insistently without accomplishment.  Even when the gunfire halted, when the floodlights were doused, she could still not bare to lift her aching lids.  She could only drop to her knees on the cement, pawing at her eyes.

Integra managed to open hers carefully; she was held protectively against Walter's side, and he refused to release her until he was certain she could stand on her own.  She pushed urgently away to see what had happened.  Jacob had gone too far, and if not for her full attention being on Alucard she was thoroughly convinced she might have killed him.

Alucard had dropped to one knee in the path of the light.  His coat was lifted to shield his skin, and there were deep, pulsing burns covering his face and arms where bullets had torn patches of fabric free.  He looked haggard, though his eyes were still bright and vaguely defiant.  Integra held that gaze for a long time before shifting her focus to the form he was shielding: a woman.  A slender, crumpled form huddled child-like against him.  She had suffered far more greatly from Jacob's weapon—entire stretches of flesh had been peeled away from her bones, leaving only blood and ash.  She was shaking, probably terrified.  Integra watched without pity.  "Alucard."

The vampire lifted his head, facing her with his burned and mangled countenance, his expression calm and blank.  The female had been hiding in his shadow—he had been protecting her.  Again Integra's injustice rose, and with a scowl she lifted her own weapon and fired several shots.

"Master!"  Celas' vision returned just in time for her to see the vampire's body pitch backwards, run through with silver.  He collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud; blood oozed, dark and twisting, across darker asphalt.  Almost immediately he struggled to his knees, and Celas could only watch in horror as another shot to his throat felled him once more.  Integra's face was cold and unimpassioned as she carried out her punishment, until his struggles appeared nothing more than weak, shifting movements.

"Master…."  Celas started to crawl forward.  She was barely aware of the tears flowing over her face, of their coppery taste.  "Alucard…."  She then raised her blurred gaze to Integra.  "How could you?"

Integra did not respond.  She merely handed her weapon to Walter, who accepted it hesitantly and with a somewhat stunned expression.  "Jacob," she said evenly.  "There's your vampire."

Lorenna squirmed piteously, and with great difficulty managed to push to her feet despite the missing flesh from her left leg.  "Damn you, Hellsing cowards," she snarled.  Her skin began to blacken and leak.  "Hiding behind your own enemies—"

Jacob freed his wooden dagger and stepped forward swiftly, driving it into the vampire's stomach.  She screamed in agony, writhing; she managed to last out and strike him hard across the face, drawing blood.  But even as he withdrew it was too late—her injured leg disintegrated abruptly out from under her, and she collapsed with a moan.

"Lorenna…."  Celas bit her lip and continued to pull herself along the ground.  Her progress was halted by a heel cracking down on the small of her back, and she fell onto her stomach with a choked gasp.  It was Varjak, her brain reasoned distantly.  She twisted weakly without success.  Alucard was still fighting against his own battered flesh, be it pride or vengeful determination that drove him, but he was having trouble getting his arms under him.  Celas shuddered, remembering not long ago when silver had almost killed him in the Tower of London.  "Master—"

"Get that light back on," Mark Sanfeld instructed abruptly, indicating the pair of weakened hell-creatures at his feet.  Celas gasped and went stiff; thankfully, Integra was quick to voice her protests.

"Withdraw that order," the leader of Hellsing snapped, unnoticing of Alucard's heavy gaze upon her.  "If you think—"

"Your dog has betrayed you, Hellsing," Sanfeld interrupted heatedly.  "Let us dispose of them both and be done with it."

"This is my institute, and if you think…."

Their argument faded to the back of Celas's mind as she watched her master.  He was fixed solely on Integra, his eyes blazing, the seals still in tact upon his gloves burning in angry veins of magic.  Beyond him, Lorenna was immobile; still barely alive, as her face was twisted, her hand pressed tightly to her abdomen.  And…she began to laugh, thickly and brokenly.  It was a chilling sound that halted the humans around her as she forced herself into a sitting position.

"Damned Hellsing," she chuckled, looking for all the world like a woman gone mad.  "Damned Mithril 6!  You fools!  You think by my death—by his—you will have accomplished anything?"  She laughed some more, wildly.  "Come, then!  Kill me with your coward's science!  Kill the child I carry!  But know that its life and mine are immortal!"  She turned her wild, crazed eyes on Integra.  "Know that you have no power over us, you pathetic mortal whore."

Integra's face remained unmoved.  Without a word she stalked forward, dragging Lorenna by a fistful of hair toward Jacob's truck.  The vampire continued to laugh, devoid of sense as she was lifted off the ground and tossed carelessly into the vehicle interior.  The doors were closed with a  resounding metal clang.

"There."  Integra snorted, casually plucking a fresh cigar out of her coat.  "Now you can turn it on."

Sanfeld eyed her mistrustfully, but passed the order along all the same.  As soon as he began to lift his hand, however, Alucard resumed his fight; he was able to reach his knees before Celas couldn't take any more.  She was already shaking, horrified by everything happening she couldn't help, but she couldn't bare to watch her Master beaten down again.  Lorenna may have been already lost, but there was no need for Alucard to—

"Master!"  Celas twisted, her police training finally kicking in as she threw Varjak off her.  Knowing she only had a moment before the agent recovered, she flung herself at the crouched figure.  Alucard grunted, surprised, as she toppled them both.  "Master, please stop," she begged, arms tight around his torn and bloodied chest.  "Please, that's enough.  Please don't fight them anymore…."

"Celas…."

His response was cut short by a piercing cry—the ultra-violent floodlights had been activated.  Celas could feel both of them jump at the sound of the trapped vampire's unearthly scream.  It echoed out cracks in the metal frame, stunning all those surrounding into unmoving silence.  Even Varjak and Sanfeld paled at the sound, and exchanged even stares.  Celas was frozen.  It seemed to take hours for Lorenna to die, and the whole while she screamed, long and high and cracked.  When it ended it was all at once; there was no gradual drain into silence, but only an abrupt cessation, as if cut through by a knife.  Even then, Celas could have sworn she felt the spirit pass; a chill, unlike anything she had ever felt before, seeped through her bones.  The cold was biting and intense.  "Master."

The last ting she remembered before she blacked out was Alucard's voice, a low murmur in her ear.  "Feel it, Celas.  The death of a No Life King."

---

When it had all ended—when Integra opened her eyes once more—there was nothing left of the vampire but a sweep of ash that was carried away by the wind.  She had seen a hundred vampires fade out of existence in such a way, though it never ceased to amaze her how cleanly they departed from this world, leaving only victims.  Nothing to remember them by; nothing to linger on, save a quickly fading memory.  By tomorrow she would have forgotten the radiance in crimson irises, the simple, sharp features that were a poor example of elegance.  The name Lorenna would stay in her brain a bit longer, with the strangely irritating knowledge that she had never heard Alucard speak it.

But the image of Alucard then, as she turned away from the truck and the soldiers and the ash, would never leave her.  His wounds were not healing—the fault of the silver imbedded in his flesh.  She was even surprised he was able to hold his form so well after all she'd fired into him.  But that feeling, along with a kind of dull, resigned acknowledgment, retreated quickly inside her when what remained of his lips curled.  He was smiling at her, at the dark canopy spread behind her.  It was a strange expression, different than any she had seen on him, made worse by the grotesque disfiguring of his face.  It was also eerily familiar.  Her eyes narrowed as she blew a ring of smoke.  "Proud of yourself?" she asked icily.

Alucard closed his eyes.  He was still smiling, and his hand moved idly over a few strands of Celas's hair.  It was an oddly intimate gesture that grated on her nerves.  This was not the Alucard she had come to expect, and she found it disconcerting to imagine she had misjudged him so dramatically.

"Not really," the vampire confessed.  But there was no shame, no weariness in his voice that a human would have shown.  Only a soft chuckle that came and faded as easily as the ash.  "You did everything I expected."

Integra's expression darkened.  He sounded…approving, and ancient.  And all of a sudden his expression slipped into place; that calm, patient smile reminded her inexplicably of her father.  Though part of her retreated in denial, she made no move.  "Walter," she said emotionlessly.  "Find Alucard something to drink.  Make sure he makes it to his quarters and stays there."

"Yes, Lady Integra."

She took another breath of her cigar before she realized that no one was moving.  "The mission is over," she declared to her soldiers.  "You are all dismissed."  And when still several of them shifted about uncertainly she snapped, "_Go on."_

At last the unit spurred to life.  Under the orders of Sanfeld and Commander Wellerune they gathered up the bodies of the dead and returned the vehicles and artillery to their proper holdings.  Each cast a wary, uneven gaze at Alucard and his vampire but no one spoke a word.  Integra could not take her eyes from it.  It may have been morbid amazement at seeing her servant so battered, maybe the anticipation, the patient anxiety that told her he could have risen at any time.  He did not stir again—indeed, she could not tell if he was still conscious.

When the majority of the soldiers had departed Integra at last turned away.  She didn't know or particularly care how Alucard would return to his quarters in Hellsing's bowels; Walter would handle it.  The American vampire was gone, and with it any reason to believe Alucard would act out again.  She should have known better, but it had been so long since she'd doubted Alucard at all that the feeling was foreign to her, and she could not cling to it for long.  She didn't make it far, however; she stopped abruptly when she came across the man who had begun this bizarre dream.

Jacob didn't seem to notice when she approached; his gaze was fixed blindly on the ultra-violet weapon being driven out of sight.  He looked pale, but it might have just been her.  Her eyes narrowed.  "Jacob."

Had she not reacted quickly enough Jacob would have collapsed.  Integra saw the subtly sway in his weight, the upward turn of his eyes, and managed to clasp his shoulder to keep him steady.  "Jacob," she said sharply, giving him a firm shake.  "Damnit, don't you do this now."

Jacob started, and slowly his eyes fell on her.  They were dull and haunted.  "Integra…."  Gradually he composed himself once more.  "Sorry," he returned, running a hand through his hair.  He took her arm a moment to maintain his balance.  "I'm sorry.  Just…sometimes it gets to me."

"I know."  Integra took a deep breath to calm herself; she didn't want to deal with this now, but she couldn't leave Jacob on his own when he was like this. "I'll take you inside."

"Thank you."  He sighed, and took the first step toward the institute.  Integra followed suit with a hand tight around his wrist—the only comfort she would offer just yet.  They passed by Alucard's yet immobile form but neither paused or diverted their gaze.

Hellsing's insides were quiet that night.  Though there were still many soldiers ambling about they did so silently, with eyes downcast.  This was not how it should have been after a successful kill, but Integra didn't have the strength to be angry; she was presently too preoccupied by the heavy weight against her gut, the lingering image of pale, smiling lips.  The inside of her office was as small comfort to her; dark, thick, and silent, filled with the lingering scent of burning cigar ash.  With a quiet sigh she slipped out of the confining suit-coat and tossed it aside in uncharacteristic carelessness.  The fresh cigar pressed between her lips was bitter, and her fingers curled stiffly around the match that lit it.  She felt numb.  Now that the mission was over, that Jacob was asleep in his room, that Walter…was taking care of the rest, she was exhausted and worn, and nothing could keep her gaze from drifting across the room to her father's portrait.  

She met her father's eyes for some time; they were smiling at her, neither condemning nor forgiving.  Such was her father's way in life and in oil.  She both loved and hated that painting with its tilted smirk and questioning gaze that offered not resolutions.  Especially since she only looked on it when she needed questions answered.

She had been a fool.  She had even expected this day to come—had imagined it, had considered and planned for the time when Alucard would betray her.  For she had always known that he was, in the end, a creature of evil: a vampire, the true undead, the soulless king who above all sought blood.  It was inevitable, reasonably so, that she should one day prepare to defend her institute from him.  It was impeccable logic.  It was almost necessary, even.  She was glad it had happened; she would never be so careless again.

Integra was met again with her father's inquisitive visage, and in her weakened state allowed a vague illusion to be pulled over her sight; for a moment it was Alucard's face there, watching her with quiet amusement, his eyes deep and wise like those of the ancient kings.  He was praising her.

Integra closed her eyes, turning away as her shoulders crept up and began to tremble.

*to be continued*


	8. Chapter 8

**Moonlit Midnight**

Chapter 8

The police girl's sleep was thick and dreamless, and cold.  The first sensation to reach her as she was pulled slowly awake was a dull tremor in her limbs.  Her fingers were stiff and aching, having been clenched tight about worn fabric as she slept.  Even when her eyelids lifted she was met only with blackness.  Everything felt cramped and still, not unlike the confines of her own coffin.  Only, she smell of blood was thick here, seeping into her clothes and hair, even if it did not awaken the usual hunger within her.

"Master…."  Celas shuddered as the memories of that night seeped through her brain.  She was still shocked by it all; Alucard's betrayal, the light weapon, Lorenna's death—the scenes bled together, until she couldn't distinguish one from the next, leaving her dizzy.  She curled a little closer to the cushioning beneath her, only to feel her cheek pressed against a shirt button.  Blinking, she slid her hand over the contoured surface; she wasn't alone.

Celas jolted; now that her senses were clearing she could easily determine where she was—inside a coffin, as suspected, stretched out over a familiar body.  "Master…."  Her fingers curled, taking in fistfuls of lush fabric.  It was a bizarre sensation, being so close to a body that was so still and cold.  Though she had always known her master was the undead, that she herself sometimes feigned breathing…there was something unnatural and unsettling about not hearing the steady rhythm of human lungs beneath her.  If she pressed close enough, if she listened hard enough, she could almost detect the faint beat of a pulse beneath his ribs, but it did very little to comfort her.

Celas opened her eyes, but in the darkness of the coffin she could see nothing.  She knew it was him—by his feel, his smell, even the dull impression of his aura.  They had not been this close since she had first been changed.  In any other circumstance she would have blushed, and tried to shy away, but her memories were coming quickly now, freezing her in place.  

Alucard was asleep now.  She wondered, half-terrified, what he would do when he awoke; what eyes he would fix on her, knowing she had betrayed him.  She had surrendered Lorenna to Jacob Zimmerman by speaking her name, stood idly by as her master was assaulted and torn, merely shuddered at the suffering of her kind.  She'd lacked the strength to defy Integra, even for her master's sake.  For…the sake of her master's child….

Celas shuddered again.  "All I wanted…was to be of some good to you, Master," she whispered.  Her throat swelled and choked the words as she curled like a small child against Alucard's chest.  "I'm sorry; I'm so sorry.  I couldn't protect anyone."  When her eyes watered, she made no move to stop them.  The moisture was quickly absorbed by the thick shirtfront.  "I'm no good at this.  Master, I…."

The body beneath her stirred slightly, and Celas stiffened, falling quiet and motionless.  A moment later, however, and Alucard was still deeply sedated.  The tension would not leave her limbs, and with a tremor she realized she couldn't stay here.  She was too afraid to meet Alucard's reaction when he awoke.  "I'm sorry," she whispered again.  Scrubbing at her eyes, she twisted and pressed hard against the coffin lid.  It groaned softly in protest but lifted enough that she could slip out.

Once she was on her feet again Celas glanced back for a clear look of her slumbering master.  It was eerie, how still and almost natural he looked—eyes gently closed, lips full and calm, hands neatly folded.  Where there had once been missing flesh there were only faint scars, crossing his otherwise flawless countenance.  He looked as if he had slept a hundred years just as he was now, and could sleep a thousand more if he wished it.  Celas's eyes thinned.  She…could never be like that.  Was a fool to think she could ever become like that.

With a deep breath she closed the lid once more.

---

The private office of Hellsing's commanding officer had never seemed so large than at that moment.  The sun had yet to rise, but Integra was convinced she could feel its heat reflecting off the moon and at her back.  Several hours had passed since the incident, though she had no knowledge of how many.  She had spent the time here, alone, watching as a thin trail of cigar smoke rose past her father's portrait.  She had been meeting his eyes for some time.  She scowled.  "You would have done no different," she muttered as she snuffed her cigar vengefully.  Just as ash extinguished there was a knock on the door.  "Not now," she called.

The door opened anyway, revealing the unwelcome appearance of Jacob Zimmerman.  She snorted and looked away.  "I expected to see you sooner or later."

Jacob paused at the doorway, for a moment looking genuinely unsure, before continuing inside.  It wasn't like him to be timid, and that irritated her.  He had no reason to be anything less than thrilled by his mission completed.

"Integra."  Jacob closed the door carefully behind him.  "You shouldn't be here," he told her just as quietly as he approached.  He hadn't changed his clothing yet, and his eyes looked as worn and haggard as she felt.  "It's morning—you should get some sleep."

"It's not morning yet, and I'm not tired," Integra lied, leaning back in her chair.  "And there are still things to do."

"Nothing more important than your health.  Besides, Walter and I took care of things."  He dropped a file onto her desk she hadn't noticed he'd been carrying; the sharp sound almost made her jump.  "So get some rest already.  It's been a long night."

Integra glared at him incredulously.  "I'm in no mood for jokes, Jacob."

"And I'm not telling any."  He sighed, and swept a hand back through his hair.  He knew her better, however, than to think she'd listen to him.  "All right.  If you're determined to work, at least let me make it easier on you."  He pushed the folder closer.  "An official report to submit to Oxford's Dean and the Committee—Walter wrote them up, don't worry.  There's also an account of all supplies and…casualties."

Integra blinked slowly, but other than that her face betrayed no emotion as she retrieved the papers and flipped through them.  The words blurred together before her eyes like blood on pavement.  "It's too early to look at casualties," she muttered.  "I'll contact the families in the morning." The thought made the back of her throat burn, and she closed the file before she could spot any recognizable names.

Jacob's eyes on her were quiet but sympathetic, and she hated them until he spoke next.  "Don't worry.  You won't have to."

Integra paused, and as her instincts provided her with an unwanted explanation she raised her eyes slowly to the man's face.  "Tell me."

The expression she had a moment ago mistake for sympathy seemed to diffuse beneath her gaze into something unreadable.  "They're mine," he reported evenly.  "Total count for the night, discounting the students who became ghouls, was fourteen fatalities, and one man missing an arm.  All of them were my officers."

"They were all…."  Integra's gaze flickered away from him, and when her attention caught on what looked like a twisting tendril of shadow she stood abruptly from her chair.  But it wasn't a familiar presence, and the closest thing to Alucard's usual smirk was her father's portrait on the wall.  It stared back at her with profound amusement.  "He didn't kill any Hellsing officers," she surmised dully.  "On purpose—he couldn't have killed that many and have it be an accident.  Which means he…."

Integra curse ferociously, and with a sharp movement of her hand sent the file and its papers flying off the desk.  She could feel her body shaking just barely in too much emotion—too much anger and frustration and confusion.  "That bastard," she snarled.  "Even in betraying us he mocks us.  How dare he play these games on my family!  He—"

"He never betrayed you, Integra," Jacob interrupted in his damnably calm voice.

She whirled on him with a vengeance.  "Shut up!  You don't know anything about it!"  She moved around the desk to face him properly.  "Alucard ignored my summons, my orders and my seals—whoever he kills is a sin against Hellsing and God.  And not only did he neglect to mention Mephistos to me once he'd found her, he harbored that filthy vampire in my institute!  This is all unforgivable!"

Jacob didn't flinch back or retreat from her as she ranted, which was all the more infuriating, but when she started to mention his name as well he snatched her suddenly by the shoulders and drew her forward.  His voice was a cold whisper in her ear. "Integra, stop it."  She protested at first, but he held her captive against his chest and would not relent.  "This isn't you."

"How dare you presume to know the difference," she snarled. "How can you always be so selfi—"

"_Integra."  His voice was sharper this time, almost cruel, and it stunned Integra long enough that she fell silent.  He continued in a quiet tone now that she was listening.  "Integra.  How can you accuse me of that, after all we've been through?"  His hand softened on her shoulders, allowing her to escape his gaze.  "Haven't I always been there?  Half a world away, and I've done everything I can—"_

"I never asked you to," she muttered.  "I'm not a child; I don't need you looking after me."

Jacob gently turned her face back toward him.  "What about when your father died?" he asked carefully, and were he any other man she would have struck him.  "When you told me you were afraid of Alucard, and that when you began to trust him you were afraid of yourself?  When you nearly lost the battle against Arvlein, and Ballren?  And now?"

"What about it?" she demanded.  "Are you trying to prove that I need you?"  She snorted.  "Pathetic."

"I'm trying to tell you I care for you," Jacob retorted, frustration making his voice rise.  "I've been here—I know you.  So don't accuse me of not knowing anything."

"Fine."  Integra glared back at him, determined to stay stubborn.  "Then I won't bring up your mother, either."

At last Jacob let her go; he took a step back, even, as if she'd burned him.  She felt a bit of morbid satisfaction in the pale shade of his face.  "As long as we're dragging out old history, that is," she continued.  "We could easily talk about the inspiration behind that hideous light device of yours."

She saw the shudder that ran through him; she expected him to back down, because he always did eventually, especially when it came down to this particular issue.  She didn't like doing it because she knew she was hurting him, and he was right about many things, but she couldn't talk about this anymore.

But something happened then that she didn't expect; he didn't relent.  "We won't talk about Alucard then, either," Jacob replied quietly.  His face was stern.  "And the reason you'll never let me closer than this."

"Whatever you're implying, I've had enough," Integra snapped.  Her fists curled at her sides.  "Get out.  I don't have time for this."

"You never do.  It must be terribly convenient."

"Shut up."  She started to return to her desk.  "Now, I still have work to do, so if you'll—"

Jacob took hold of her again, suddenly reminding her how string he really was as he dragged her back to him.  She knew well enough what he as up to, and raised her hand to strike, but he caught her wrist before she could lend it any strength.  She then found herself pressed tight against his chest, her mouth caught in warm, desperate lips.  She faltered for only a moment, and then was pushing at him again, struggling out of his grip.  She should have thought to hit him again, but her limbs never received the instructions.  She could only glare back at him defiantly with fists trembling.

Jacob met her gaze firmly, though behind his appearance there was the same hesitant, questioning boy she'd always known.  "Why?" he asked evenly.  "I've done everything I know how to do, Integra.  You've always known that I—"

"That's right.  I have."  Integra turned away and headed for the window, pulling back the curtains to allow in the first glow of morning.  "And you've always known you can't have me.  So maybe it's time for you to leave."

The silence stretched between them a moment more, and then Jacob was indeed turning to exit.  Integra pursed her lips and held very still as she listened to his departing footsteps.  It didn't take him as long to reach the door as she thought it should have; he twisted it easily open and walked out without another word, without announcement or retort.  She didn't even have t he presence of mind to utter a curse when she heard the wood slip quietly together.  She only let the curtain fall.

There was a knock on the door, suddenly and inexplicably irritating her.  "Who is it?" she demanded angrily, but when she turned she found only Walter, watching her.

"I'm very sorry, Lady Integra," Walter said humbly.  "But it seems that Miss Victoria has gone missing."

----

Celas gasped softly as she continued away from the Hellsing institute.  Getting out had been a simple matter—the soldiers were still weary and uncertain, and she hardly called any attention to herself.  Those she did meet she told she was on her way to meet Lady Integra.  No one felt like defying vampires that night.

She didn't know where she was gong.  There were only a few places she could have gone anyway, but she didn't want to end up anywhere she might be found.  As if anyone might come to look for her.  She imagined Integra would come eventually if only to kill her—she was a vampire she had taken human blood, she had betrayed her superiors and her master.  She had failed everyone who was depending on her.  And now, like a coward she was running, hoping only to forget it all for a while and find solitude.

When Celas was finally forced to stop she found herself in one of London's suburban areas, on the edge of a school playground.  The hour was late—the sun would be up soon—and she would have to find shelter.  She could no longer face the sun.  Shaking, she lowered herself to the earth beneath a wide metal slide.  When the sun came up, maybe she would stay right here.  She would let it creep across the ground until it peeled her flesh away and killed her, just like Lorenna.

Celas curled her knees tightly to her chest and held them, her shoulders hunched and stiff, her eyes stinging.  "Alucard…."  His laughter drifted back to her, and she cringed.  "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.  What can I do now?"  A tremor swept through her. "Where can I go?"

"Celas?"

It was a young voice, a familiar voice, and in desperation Celas turned her gaze upward to meet bright green eyes.  She began to shake.  "G…Garret?"

The blond youth knelt down in front of her.  It was indeed Garret, dressed in another baggy T-shirt, the same ill-fitting jeans, looking just like he had those several nights ago.  She could hardly believe what she was seeing.  "What…what are you doing here?" she whispered hoarsely.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," he admitted, offering her his hand and a tentative smile.  "It's almost dawn.  Come on—we have to get out of here."

"But I…."  Celas drew away despite her better judgment.  "I don't have anywhere to go."

"Yes you do."  Garret edged closer with that same easy expression and tried his hand again.  "Come on.  I came here for you, Celas.  Trust me."

Celas bit her lip, still cringing away from him.  But when the morning's first glow began to creep over the horizon a sharp panic flashed through her, and she clutched at Garret's hand.  "I'm sorry," she whispered, for no reason at all.

Garret's smile broadened as he helped her out from under the slide.  "There's a good girl," he murmured approvingly.  "Come on, now, and I'll get you all fixed up."  He wasted no time in pulling her to her feet and starting away from the playground.  "It's not too far."

"Why are you—" Celas started to ask, but when she felt his hand tighten around hers, when she felt the dull shiver that passed up her arm, the answer came to her in a dull flash of bitterness.  She would have asked how he'd found her as well, but that was obvious, too.  She was being used but she didn't care, and as long as Garret kept her from being alone, she wouldn't protest.  There had to be someone left who would still trust her.

Celas was just beginning to feel the tiny, electric heat of sunlight skating up her back when Garret pulled her suddenly into the back alley between two empty warehouses; somehow they'd ended up by the river.  "It's all right," he assured as he slipped through a narrow door, tugging her along.  "Just stay with me, okay?  You'll be fine."

They suddenly weren't alone, and Celas gasped quietly as four pairs of brightly lit eyes fell on them: two men, a young woman, and an even younger boy.  The men especially fixed her with a close gaze as Garret led her through the open room.  It looked like a dwelling of some sort, with old blankets set about, and a thick scent of blood in the air.  All four of them had fed recently, and she surprised herself in feeling no disgust for them

"Hey," the woman of the group spoke up, and when Garret didn't halt she climbed to her feet.  "Hey, newcomer.  What do you think you're doing, bringing Hellsing in here?"

The other three sharpened their gazes on Celas, only just then noticing the insignia on her shirtfront.  This time Garret stopped, his eyes gleaming, but Celas was quick to silence any response he might have given.  She didn't want to see anyone else fighting tonight.  "I'm a vampire," she told them around her shaking voice.  "I'm…in Bright Midnight.  I ran away so they wouldn't find out."

Though this explanation seemed to be more than enough for the men in the room, the woman—a blonde with a round, flat face—didn't look at all convinced.  "You're still Hellsing," she snorted, eyeing her carefully.  "And this place isn't much, but—"

"I've defected," Celas interrupted, injecting strength into her voice.  The words pained her, but she couldn't risk losing this place, too.  Without giving her time to regret what she was saying she went on.  "Hellsing betrayed my master, so I ran away, and I'm…I'm not going back."  Her voice rose to a desperate pitch.  "Do you hear that?  I'm not going back!"

"All right," the woman quickly amended, holding up her hands.  Something had changed abruptly in her eyes, from suspicion to understanding.  When Garret nodded faintly she appeared convinced.  "If it was because of your master, I'll understand," she said slowly.  "Just be careful—this place is all we have."  And with that she rejoined the men on their blankets.

Celas was still a moment, watching them, until Garret tugged lightly on her hand.  She fell obediently into step behind him as they made their way towards a space in the back; not exactly private, but the best that they could manage.  Another set of blankets had been laid out, and among them a child—a little boy, covered in dirt and hair unkempt.  Celas felt a brief thrill of fright; she imagined for a moment they must have been keeping him for food.  But he moved slightly in his sleep, lips parting to reveal a pair of fangs.

"He's newly changed," Garret explained, taking a seat beside the boy.  He ruffled already rag-like hair with affection.  "Eleanor brought him in the other night, they told me.  He's coping with it pretty well, for a child."

Celas gulped and lowered herself to Garret's side.  He's so young," she murmured.

"No more than eleven.  A homeless orphan."

She nodded vaguely.  She wanted to say it was a shame, a tragedy, but Garret looked pleased, and…she didn't really mean it anyway.  The boy appeared content, after all.  "At least he won't go hungry like this," she muttered, tugging her knees up to her chest.

Garret frowned at her thoughtfully.  "Are you all right?"  He set a hand on her shoulder, sending a dull shudder through her flesh.  She flinched away guiltily.  "You've had a long night."

"I don't see why you care," she replied flatly.  "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I was worried about you."

"Oh come off it, Garret."  Her arms tightened around her shins; she shouldn't be challenging him—she needed someone, anyone to be there for her—but she felt fragile and uncertain.  "I know why you're here; you can say it."

Garret's hesitation was enough to prove her suspicions right.  "It's not just that," he tried again.  "I was worried; we all felt it."

Celas shivered, not because she knew what he meant but because the others in the warehouse had fallen deathly silent.  They were all watching her.  She shrank a little as her skin began to crawl.  

_That's right.  I felt it, too_.

"Was it…your master?" Garret asked quietly, his eyes trained sympathetically on hers.

Celas was quick to answer.  "No.  It wasn't…Master."  She lowered her head in shame.  "It was an American, Lorenna.  She…."  She gulped.  "They killed her with sunlight."

"Sunlight?" the youngest of the three men echoed from across the room.  "That's not possible."

"We won't worry about it now," Garret swiftly intervened.  "She's had a rough time."  He pulled up one of the blankets to drape over Celas's shoulders.  She accepted and drew into the fabric eagerly.  "We'll talk about it later," he promised in a softer tone.  "Just rest for now—you're safe here."

Celas didn't know if she believed that, but she had little choice at the moment.  With a quiet sigh she relaxed onto her side amidst the blankets and tugged them close.  "Will you…"  She knew it was a mistake, but she was still shaking and cold.  "…stay with me?  Just for tonight?"

Garret smiled easily down at her.  "I will.  Now get some sleep—the sun's already up."  He bent down to offer her cheek a kiss, and already she began to feel better.  "Sleep well."

Celas nodded and closed her eyes.  As if by instinct she drew back against the warmer body.  "Thanks, Garret…."  Thankfully the darkness swelled around her, welcoming her in a deep sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Moonlit Midnight**

Chapter 9

When Celas awoke she was surprised to feel that she was feeling much better.  Other than the remaining tension behind her ribs she was refreshed and full of energy.  Part of that, though, might have been the wide chest pressed up against her shoulder blades, and the arm draping his raise.  She was fairly certain she hadn't fallen asleep this way.  Normally she would have protested—she knew she should be protesting—but Garret was warm against her back.  She squirmed a little, like a giddy child, to feel firm muscle scrape against her.  It felt good, and though she knew the euphoria was merely another side effect of her…condition…there was nothing she could do about it; she decided it would be best to draw comfort from whatever she could.  "Garret…."

Her senses tingled, and Celas raised her yet lazy gaze upward.  She was dragged fully awake but the sudden realization that a man was standing over her.  She jerked away from Garret and sat upright, her eyes widening.  "Ballerant!"

Ballerant stood over them, dressed in the same white shirt and khaki pants he'd worn the night before.  His pale eyes were all but glowing in the darkened warehouse, and Celas squirmed beneath them.  He didn't look angry, but watching him reminded her of the night before, and it sent cold shivers through her.  "Listen, Ballerant—"

His hand closed around her throat before she realized he'd moved; she had no chance of loosening that powerful grip.  It only lasted a moment, as almost immediately Garret jarred to life and punched the vampire squarely in the face.  He was sent tumbling with nothing more than a weak cry, but he righted himself quickly, and would have moved upon Celas again were it not for the menacing figure at her back.  

Celas pushed shakily to her feet.  "Ballerant, wait," she pleaded.  "I'm sorry, but I—"

"She's dead," Ballerant snarled, lip curling as he glared the pair down.  His eyes were gleaming and vengeful.  "My master is dead, and you didn't—"

"You didn't do anything, either," Celas snapped back before he could finish.  She had already sworn to claim responsibility for her part in the while ordeal, and if anyone should do the same it was this man.  "You weren't even there—Lorenna was your master, not mine!"

The vampire's fists clenched, and Celas felt Garret step up to her side protectively.  It spread a feeling of warm gratitude through her—Garret was taking care of her.  She could feel him at her side, closer than Alucard would usually stand.  More…tender than Alucard would ever be.  And she felt better than she had in days until Ballerant spoke again.

"You betrayed your master, too," he hissed venomously.  "Don't you think Hellsing will kill him, now?  Just like they did Lorenna."

"Stop it," Garret intervened, taking another threatening step forward.  "Cant' you see she's had enough?  Get the hell out of here before I—"

But Celas held up a hand.  "No, wait.  Both of you, please stop."  She sent Garret a pleading glance, who didn't look pleased but relented.  She then turned her attention back to Ballerant, who was shifting back and forth discontentedly.  She licked her lips.  "You…were there?"

"Yes.  I saw," Ballerant replied bitterly.  "All of it."

"Then you know I couldn't do anything.  I'm not a high level vampire—there was nothing I could have done."  Her voice trailed off at the end; she knew it was no excuse, but it was better than anything Ballerant could some up with.  All the same she added, "It's not our fault.  We couldn't have stopped that thing.  Not even Master could."  She shuddered.  "Please, let's not fight.  I…didn't want Lorenna to die."

It was a strange admission for her, and Ballerant must have realized, as his expression sobered.  She was defending a vampire, one that had in all likelihood killed thousands of humans over the past century.  But she felt not resentment towards her, only a sickening feeling of guilt, and loss.  Across from her, Ballerant looked away.  "You're right," he murmured distantly.  "It wasn't your fault."

Celas nodded.  Though she knew it wasn't the best response—he was still blaming himself, which bothered her somehow—she was satisfied.  "Thank you, Ballerant."

"Now, why are you here?" Garret interjected abruptly, his eyes yet unblinking and focused on the other.

"I came for her," he replied without considering, and for a moment Celas flushed in embarrassment.  Before she could carry that thought too far he continued.  "Alucard once asked me to look after her, and because…."  His fists tightened.  "I may need your help."

"Our help?"

"But Lorenna's gone," Celas said quietly, and his attention snapped to her.  She went on regardless.  "She couldn't do what she came to do.  Doesn't that mean you're leaving?"

"No.  There's still…something I need to do."  There was a strange gleam of determination in his eyes, and she wasn't sure she liked it.  "I won't expect you to come with me, but I do expect you to help.  If you're a real vampire, that is."

"Hey," Garret again tried to intervene.  "There's no need for that.  Whatever you want, just—"

"Garret, please."  Celas laid a hand on his arm to quiet him.  Though her instincts were telling her she didn't want to know Ballerant's intentions, his eyes were intense on hers, and she couldn't bring herself to turn away without hearing him out.  "Is it…Hellsing?" she asked carefully.

"Not Hellsing."  He stood a little taller now that she was really paying attention.  "Mithril 6.  I know I can't ask you to betray your _people."  He said the word with a hint of disgust.  "But I will fight Zimmerman and his Sanfeld.  I can't let our efforts here go completely to waste."_

Celas lowered her head as she considered his words very carefully.  Though she was grateful that he had not called upon her to betray anyone else, the thought of fighting Jacob, after what she'd seen in oxford, was not all that favorable to her, either.  She didn't owe this man anything.  He and his master had come by their own will, on a mission they knew was foolish.  It shouldn't have concerned her.

"I'll help you," Celas said very quietly, trying to make her voice strong.  "But I'm not doing it for you.  It's for…my Master.  His…love, and his child."  Her fists curled stiffly at her sides.  It was a pale, pathetic atonement in any case, to speak vengeance for the unborn long after it was lost.  At this point, however, she wasn't sure what else she could do.  Even if Hellsing rejected her completely after this at least she would have done it for Alucard.  If she could only gain back a tiny portion of his favor….

"Celas."  Garret touched her shoulder gently.  "Are you sure you want to do this?"  His eyes flickered briefly to Ballerant.  "I don't know what this is all about, but I don't think you owe him anything."

"It's all right," she quietly assured beneath both their heavy stares.  "I'll do it.  What do you want me to do?"

Ballerant considered her a moment, as if determining whether or not she was up to it.  "I'm going to kill Zimmerman and Sanfeld, and I'd suggest destroying that light weapon of theirs.  They can always make more, of course, but that takes time, and shipping another one here might be difficult.  But that thing could hurt Alucard, even if it probably couldn't kill him.  It's in your best interests to get rid of it."

Celas nodded knowingly.  "I understand.  I will."  She took a deep breath.  "When?"

"Tonight.  The institute is still shaken from what happened, and now that…they consider their mission complete, they'll be careless."  Ballerant paused again.  "But before then, we should feed.  It won't be easy."

A cold shiver slid up Celas' spine at those words.  "Feed?" she echoed nervously.  Despite her convictions, her courage faltered.  "Um, I think I'm okay, actually."

Both men stared at her, baffled, and she laughed in anxious embarrassment.  "I mean, they usually take good care of me at Hellsing, so I'm not hungry."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ballerant snorted.  "I know you didn't eat last night.  You must be starving, especially being in Bright Midnight."

"It'll give you strength," Garret added.  "You'll need it for tonight."

"But I…."  Celas gulped, shifting her weight from foot to foot.  It was difficult to think straight with both of them watching her so carefully.  Her hand curled stiffly against her aching stomach.  "I've never fed properly," she confessed diffidently.  "I've never killed a human by taking their blood.  That's why…."  She trailed off solemnly.  That was why she hadn't been a real vampire—even now, after having taken Varjak's blood, she still wasn't complete. After tonight she might…not even exist, and if she killed anyone now that sacrifice might only be wasted.  "I…."

Ballerant took several steps toward her, ignoring Garret's pointed stare.  When he took her by the arm she shivered at the feel of his wide, rough hand.  "We need you strong," he told her with deliberate seriousness.  "A child of Alucard in Bright Midnight—you have no idea what power you possess.  We'll need it if we're going to fight them.  Do you understand?"

Celas started to speak, to tell him not to patronize her, but the words were lost somewhere between her throat and the bright, piercing shade of his eyes.  "All right," she murmured.  "But…I've never…."

"We'll help you," Garret promised from the side.  "I know you still think of yourself as human, but if your Master were here I'm sure he'd agree—you need to accept—"

"I won't expect you to accept anything," Ballerant cut him off.  His hand was still tight around her arm, making her blush.  It felt like they were fighting over her.  "You have to do that on your own.  All that matters now is making sure you're strong enough to live through this.  I'm sure that's what your master wants."

Ballerant released her and stepped back, allowing Celas to take a new breath.  She bit her lips.  Ballerant was using her; he wouldn't be doing this if not for needing her help.  And Garret was using her even more selfishly.  She was surprised to realize she didn't mind.  She'd been used by Hellsing, after all, to hunt and kill her own kind.  Used by Alucard and Lorenna to distract Integra from their betrayal.  Used by Integra to betray them in return.  She was alone now, and all that mattered was putting her mistakes right.  Even if she couldn't save her kind, her Master, his lover or their child…there were still things she had to do.  For Alucard, and herself.

"I'm sick of being afraid."

Both men watched her expectantly.  But she didn't explain, raising her head with a gleam of determination.  "I'm a vampire, so I guess I gotta drink blood."  She took a deep breath.  "You'll help me?"

"Sure!" Garret replied enthusiastically.  "Though we should probably get you out of those clothes, first.  And into something more appropriate, of course."  He offered his hand, which Celas took, and began to lead her to the other end of the room.  "Elena's just about your size, so I don't think she'll mind if we borrow some stuff.  She took that kid out earlier for his first hunt—it'll be a birthday for everyone."

"Yeah."  Celas closed her eyes briefly, steeling herself.  "I guess so."

The room was so dark that Integra could only just barely see the trail of smoke from her cigar curl up towards the stone ceiling.  She couldn't admit to liking it here, surrounded by cold, dry granite, with only the dull flicker of a single candle's light to settle over the rises in her features.  She watched, as she had done all evening, the dim orange stain that danced, imp-like, over the sleeping form of a half-concealed legend.  He was utterly oblivious to its warmth on his pale cheek.  Not a breath stirred his silent figure, leaving her alone to disturb the unmoving silence.  If she ceased to breathe for a moment it was almost as if the room were empty.  She had no comprehension of how much time she'd spent here, brooding as she had of late; had perhaps even forgotten where she was until the chamber door swung open with a rusty creak.

"Lady Integra."  Walter closed the door behind him with a groan of old metal.  "I hope you have not been down here all day."

"A few hours," Integra replied carelessly.  "I did get some sleep, Walter, rest assured."

"That is good to hear."  He came forward slowly, as if being mindful of spilled water on the floor.  "Though I'd have to insist you rest some more.  This is hardly an appropriate setting for our lady commander."

Integra snorted derisively.  "Indeed."  But she only took a long breath on her cigar and made no indication of moving.  Her heavy gaze was still trained on Alucard's coffin.

Walter frowned slightly and ventured further into the room, until he stood just over his master's shoulder.  "Is there something I can get you?" he offered, if only for the sake of asking.

"No, Walter, I'm fine."

"I see."  Another brief silence followed, and Integra almost dismissed him outright; the sound of his breath in the room was ruining the effect of her many hours of solitude.  Before she could lift her voice he spoke again.  "He hasn't been conscious since then?"

"Not that I can tell," Integra replied evenly.  Then she added, "I don't think so, no.  If I didn't know better I'd say he was really dead."  Another breath of smoke rose.

"Oh, I don't think it's as bad as all that."  Walter set a hand on her shoulder; it was too heavy, but she couldn't bring herself to shrug it off.  "He's had plenty of blood.  He was exposed to a lot of silver, but something like that can't harm him too seriously."

"You're talking as if I'm worried," she warned.

"Of course not, Milady."

Integra changed the subject abruptly.  "Any word on Agent Victoria?"

"None so far, I humbly admit.  We have patrols out in the city but I'm afraid she knows most of our procedures.  She may be bale to evade us for sometime, if she so wishes."

Integra nodded vaguely.  "Good.  She had better run far.  I wouldn't want to have to kill her."

"I'll make sure she returns home safely," Walter promised.

"Very well."

Alucard still had not moved.  Integra continued to watch him, frowning around her cigar, as if expecting him to rouse at any moment, even if she knew better.  She was on her feet suddenly, and two short steps carried her to Alucard's side.  Her every movement from then on was smooth and deliberate: the removal of her left glove; the retrieval of the small switchblade she kept tucked in her coat pocket; the careful incision drawn across the tip of her thumb.  A few drops welled at the mouth of the wound; her blood looked an odd shade in the dull dungeon candlelight.

Walter didn't say a word as she lowered her hand, spreading the warm fluid across Alucard's bottom lip with one swipe of her thumb.  The vampire's nostrils flared slightly, and a moment later his tongue flickered out to collect the coppery taste, leaving no trace of it behind.  There was something unsettling about watching him move and react when there was no breath echoing from his lungs.  With a bitter smile she lowered her hand once more, so that the vampire's lips could move clumsily against her slit flesh, encouraging the flow of blood.  Her eyes thinned as she watched the weak feeding. "I spoke to Jacob earlier," she muttered without meaning to.  "He said I've been keeping myself chaste for Alucard's sake."

A brief, disconcerted frown flickered across the old man's face.  "He said that to you?"  His tone indicated he hadn't thought the man capable.

"Something like that.  Implied it, in any case."  She withdrew her hand, indulging in a vaguely morbid fascination when his lips parted as if to draw her back.

"And…your answer?  If you don't think me too bold…."

She snorted.  "I told him to get the hell out, actually."  She watched Alucard a moment more before returning her hand, allowing him to suckle at the wound until it had more or less closed.  "He's wrong, you know.  It had nothing to do with Alucard.  Nothing."  But the response came out too late to be as effective as she'd hoped, and a faint scowl twisted her mouth.

"I see."  He sounded sincere, calm, but somehow it only darkened her mood.  "In any case, you have no need to explain yourself to me."

"I'm not a child—don't patronize me."

"That was not my intent."

At last Integra drew her hand away from pale, cold lips, concealing it in her glove.  She could still feel the tiny wound throb lightly with the beat of her pulse.  "Alucard is my servant," she said firmly, her eyes cool and deep as she stared at the slumbering vampire.  "Virgin or not, he will obey me when I call on him.  That is how it's always been, and always be.  If I have avoided taking a husband it is because my dedication lies in my duty."  She smirked.  "Or they simply aren't good enough."

"I'd imagine so," Walter replied, and though he was smiling there was something patiently parental in that expression.  It was getting on her nerves; she'd been plagued by enough memories of her father for one day.  "Shall I dismiss myself, then?"

Though Integra had been hoping for him to all along, she suddenly felt that there was nothing more for her to do here.  "That's not necessary," she replied stiffly, turning away from the coffin.  "I'm leaving now."

"Hopefully to obtain some rest?" Walter suggested, his arms folded behind his back.

This time she thought it better not to protest.  "Yes, I suppose that may be best," she conceded as she passed the elderly man on her way to the door.  "Don't let me sleep any more than three hours.  I should at least be around to help Jacob pack his things."

"So…you're sending him home."

"I am.  He and his institute have been here long enough."

Integra paused before she left the room, setting her hand lightly on the doorframe.  In the dull candlelight she could have sworn she saw his lip curl in a smile.  Mystifyingly, she returned it.  "Insufferable bastard."  And with a derisive snort she exited at last, Walter just behind.

Celas chewed her lip anxiously as she set perched on the edge of a shadow-blanketed fire escape, her eyes continuously darting between the mouth of the alley and the darkened line of windows across from her.  The night air made her shiver, and inexplicably set her heart to racing.  It sucked goosebumps to life along her bare arms.  Under Garret's insistence she had changed her clothes—black jeans that clung low to her hip and a wine red, sleeveless top that exposed more of her neckline than she was used to.  Not that it exactly bothered her—she had a few similar outfits which she would sometimes wear in a fit of fashion consciousness, but with her work she hadn't had time for that kind of leisure.

She was afraid.  The harsh streetlight attempting to filter into the alley could only slip through brief cracks on the mass of moving people, casting strange, gyrating shadows against cold concrete.  She could not draw her eyes from them.  The fluid, constant motion of living bodies captivated her attention in a way she had never believe it could; she was suddenly aware that she hadn't taken a breath in some time, and her eyelids had not fluttered once.  The pair of bodies surrounding her was just as still and silent, and she could feel the anxious tension stretching between them.  Theirs, however, was excitement—she felt as if she could pass out from the pressure against her chest.

Somewhere below was her meal—alive and moving, completely unaware of his or her coming death.  A few times her gaze leapt and fastened upon a certain figure among the silhouetted figures, wondering if that one was perhaps her target.  She found herself measuring them.  Some were too old, or too gangly, and she was bizarrely disgusted by the drunken men and scantily clad women.  Something about each burned into her mind, and when a young man—late twenties, not very handsome but well toned—walked past, she stirred at last on her thin perch, her fingers clenching.

Beside her, Garret chuckled.  "I saw him, too," he said, startling her.  "You've got good taste.  Though I would have preferred a woman."

Celas's head snapped up.  "You mean…he…?"

"You're the one that spotted him."  Ballerant moved suddenly, dropping off of the railing to the alley below.  "The night is still young—if we do this quickly, we can make it to Hellsing and be done with it before dawn."

Celas gulped, the fear obvious in her face as she met Ballerant's expectant stare.  "I don't know if I can do this," she whispered breathlessly, to no one in particular.  "It's just so…my God, I'll have to—"

"It's all right," Garret assured with a light hand against her back. "Come on now; you're ready for this.  You need this."

He gave her a shove, and Celas could only manage a quiet gasp as she dropped the dozen meters to the ground.  Her landing was light; Ballerant offered no assistance to steady her, and she didn't need it.  A moment later Garret was beside her again.  She couldn't bring herself to believe this was happening, even as Ballerant led the way out into the streets, as Garret slung an arm over her shoulders and guided her to follow.  She was about to take a life.

"You don't have to worry about a thing," Garret assured quietly in her ear.  "You won't even have to kill him, if you don't want.  But you'll need to drink something if you're going to last all night."  He gave her shoulders a squeeze.

Celas nodded, t he close quarters only adding to the anxious tension in her gut as they continued down the sidewalk.  But despite Garret's subtle warmth against her side and shoulders her focus was entirely on Ballerant.  He was only a few meters ahead of them, slipping effortlessly through the crowd as if it were parting before him.  His movements were smooth, almost elegant, and she couldn't take her eyes from him.

All at once Ballerant disappeared from view, and a cold chill spread up her spine as Garret urged her to the mouth of a narrow alley.  Anyone who might have noticed probably would only imagine they were a dating couple seeking privacy.  By the time they were out of sight Celas could already hear a man's weak struggles and shallow breath.  She gulped dryly and continued forward.  In the dim light of the alley she could just make out two bodies—a pair of eyes fell on her, wide and desperate, making her skin crawl.  But greater than her apprehension was the excitement curling in her stomach at the sound of his quiet, choking murmurs, the thickening scent of blood.  When Ballerant moved aside, revealing a pair of fresh wounds in the man's neck and the thin trails of red fluid from them, I was all she could do to keep from pouncing; anything, to satisfy the sharp hunger that rose in her throat.  Garret let her go; she stepped carefully forward beneath the horrified gaze of the man she'd chosen.  She couldn't make out the color of his eyes in the dark.

Celas hesitated only a moment more before she leaned forward, curling her fingers in the man's cotton shirt as she fastened her lips around his throat.  The first taste of blood sent a thrill down her spine, filling her with a warmth unlike any she'd felt before.  It was thick and sweet; she shivered in morbid delight as she began to drink in earnest.  She as dimly aware of Garret's hand stroking her back in encouragement, of Ballerant released their victim's wrists.  For a moment the man grabbed at her shoulders, squirming in weak attempts to escape, but soon enough he'd given up.  His breath hissed against her ear as if in pleasure as his life was slowly drained, as his flesh grew cold.  It caused her to shake even more, and with a gasp she abruptly pulled away.

Ballerant steadied her as she stepped back; at least, she had to assume it was him, as her senses were lazy from the satisfying meal.  She heard the human resume his weakening protests as Garret took her place.  She…had taken blood from a human—a living human—and she had enjoyed it.  And though it spread a dull grief through her she was already aching.  "Ballerant," she hissed tremulously, tugging at his shirtfront.  "I…I need more."  She could only pray that her sudden desperation was  a result of Bright Midnight's effects on her.  "Please, I'm still so—"

Ballerant tilted her chin up, and before she could realize what he was planning his lips were on hers.  They were heavy with a coppery taste, and without thinking she kissed him eagerly.  Pressed tightly against his chest she sucked the blood from his lips and mouth; a soft, contented murmur rose from her throat.  Even when all the stain was gone she stayed, surrendering to the tension that had been lying in wait within her body the past several days.  Ballerant, with his welcoming mouth and hands firm against her back gave no objection.

When at last Ballerant started to ease Celas away she whimpered in protest, trying to draw back to him.  But he was strong as ever, and soon enough she was blinking up at Garret's disapproving stare.  She gasped and stumbled back several steps.  "Ballerant…I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have…."  She covered her lips and turned away in shame.  "I'm sorry.  I'm not myself."

Ballerant coughed lightly as he ran a hand back through his hair.  "It's all right.  I understand."  Seemingly just as embarrassed about the whole thing as she was he took a step back.  "Let's…find one more.  By then we'll have plenty of strength between the three of us."

"O…okay."  Celas stared as Ballerant turned to leave; she had to admit there was something alluring about the tall, straight line of his back, the confidence in which he carried himself that reminded her of….

A hand came down on her shoulder, and she jumped in surprise.  "Come on," Garret said shortly, giving her a pat.  "You're not full already, are you?"

"No…."  Celas bit her lip, feeling suddenly guilty.  "I'm coming."  The truth was…she was using them both.  They were doing this to help her, when really all she wanted was….

Celas glanced behind her as her peers moved on, her gaze falling to the crumpled body in the alley's shadows.  Her tongue flickered briefly over her lips.  "Master…am I a real vampire now?" she asked quietly.  "Will you be proud of me?"  She turned quickly before she could let herself hope for an answer, departing into the streets once more.

[Sorry not much happened in this chapter—the next one is the conclusion ^^]


	10. Chapter 10

Moonlit Midnight 

Chapter 10

The stone wall was cold beneath the slight pressure of Celas's hand.  She stood very still, tracing the texture of it with her fingertips; at the back of her senses she could just barely hear Garret and Ballerant taking care of the rest of the guards.  She had asked that they not take any lives while here at Hellsing—saving those Ballerant had already claimed for himself—and both had reluctantly agreed.  It would make things more difficult, as the soldiers would regain consciousness quickly and alert the rest of the institute, but Celas had no intention of creating more sacrifices.  She had too many lives on her conscience already.

Soon the pair was beside her, and she spoke to them without diverting her gaze from the space of solid stone.  "Whatever happens, I want to thank you both.  I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't helped me."

"Hey, there's no need for that," Garret assured with a grin.  "We're just trying to show off for you, after all."

Celas smiled at Ballerant's annoyed snort.  "Well, thank you, whatever the case."

"Just stick to the plan," Ballerant advised.  And then, not quite as coldly, he added, "You'll be fine, Celas.  You're one of Alucard's—he hasn't forgotten that."

She closed her eyes briefly and nodded once.  "I know.  Good luck."  With a deep breath she stepped forward, through the barrier.

When Integra emerged from her chambers a mere two hours after having visited Alucard's cell beneath the institute she was bitterly pleased to find Mithril 6 preparing for departure.  Though by now it was nearly three in the morning the soldiers were being treated to a meal in Hellsing's own mess hall to last them the trip home; their supplies had been gathered and stored, their vehicles were ready and waiting.  She surveyed their preparations with a critical eye and voiced her approval to Walter, who had at some point found his place at her side.

"Mr. Zimmerman insisted that they be on their way as soon as arrangements could be made for their transportation, as well as that of their casualties," Walter reported precisely.  "And I thought you were gong to take three hours, Ma'am."

"Two will suffice."  In truth she had slept for barely an hour, and spent the rest fitfully awake.  But he needn't concern himself.  There were other matters deserving attention; such as one vehicle in the front courtyard that seemed to have no plans of being shipped home.  With a slight frown Integra—with Walter—left Hellsing's front entranceway to investigate.

As she had dreadfully anticipated, Jacob was nearby, giving instructions to the soldier behind the wheel of his crazed invention.  He seemed to recall them when he spotted Integra and waited for her to approach.  As always his face was an open book for her; hesitant, unsure, embarrassed.  She would have struck him if she thought she could disturb the expression.  "Jacob.  I see you're on your way."

"Integra."  He nodded shortly, though she detected no formality in the gesture.  "As agreed, we're leaving now that our mission has been completed.  I apologize for all the inconveniences we've caused."

Integra snorted irritably.  "Cut it out, Jacob.  There's no need to be snide."

At last he met her glare for glare—that was the Jacob Zimmerman she knew.  "I thought I was doing things your way."

"Enough.  I'm not here to bicker with you."  She hat ed that it had come down to this between them, that he couldn't have left well enough alone and kept things as they were.  But it was too late to regret her decisions now.  "I want to know what this vehicle is still doing here."

Jacob's posture straightened.  "I'm leaving it for you," he said, each word a test.  "Shipping it back will use up a lot of extra time and money.  And…I thought you might find some use for it."

"Hellsing doesn't need toys," Integra replied smoothly.

"It's a gift," he insisted, though she could tell he was biting back some response towards her arrogance.  "I'm sure once Alucard's back on duty you won't need it, but it can't hurt to hold onto it for a while."

Integra was about to reply, but Walter beat her to it, much to her disapproval.  "Hellsing would be grateful to accept your generous offering."  She sent him a sharp glare but he returned it with one of patience, and she relented.

"Glad to hear it.  I was about to—"

"Commander Hellsing!"  The trio was interrupted by a soldier at the main entrance who was heading swiftly toward them.  "Commander, we've lost contact with the exterior wall!"

Celas moved swiftly and effortlessly through Hellsing's innards, making her way down to her chambers in the institute's basement.  She gave no heed to walls in her path, passing through them as shortcuts or simply to avoid detection.  A child of Alucard in Bright Midnight—she was, at last, beginning to understand what that meant.  She could feel the humming energy of Hellsing's seals around her and moved with them.  She could taste the remnants of blood at the back of her throat, and drew strength from its warmth in her belly.  She slid like a shadow amidst what she had once considered her kind unnoticed, unfaltering.

She had taken a human life.  Ballerant had chosen their second victim, had taken his fill—and Garret his—before leaving the rest to their younger companion.  She had fed eagerly until the body grew cold and stiff, and all that remained of his mortal life was the stain on her fangs.  Even that was a memory now.  And for the first time since her "death" at the hands of her master she felt alive, though there was no pulse behind her ribs and no breath through her throat.

_"You still have a lot to learn about being a vampire_._"_

"I know," Celas whispered, passing through the last wall into her quarters.  She quickly unearthed and began to assemble her Halconnen.  "I know, Master.  But…."  She slid a single shell into the weapon and hefted it over her shoulder.  "…I want you to be the one to teach me."

She phased back through the wall, cannon and all, and began the climb to Hellsing's upper levels.  She would only have one shot—she should only need one.  As she left the basements she was tempted to double back, to see if Alucard were in his chambers, but she dared not disturb him; there was always the chance that he would disapprove of what she was about to do, and she couldn't back down now.

"Master."  Celas continued swiftly to the institute's roof, leaping up through the ceiling where there were no stairs to avoid security.  "I'm sorry," she murmured, in case he might have been watching her already.  "I don't want to betray Hellsing—I do love it here."  She smiled ironically to herself as she knelt at the roof's edge overlooking the front courtyard.  "But I'm also a vampire, and…I'm not as strong as you.  I have to do what I think is right."  She lifted Halconnen to her shoulder.  "And…I think this is the right thing."

_Are you ready?_

_Yes, I'm here_.

In the courtyard below Integra was turning away from the lighted vehicle, Walter, Jacob, and an American soldier on her heels.  Further on she could see two figures darting towards them.  She could only pray that both would keep the promise they'd made to her.  When the group of humans had moved far enough away she took a breath and pulled the trigger.

Integra heard the screech of the projectile, but felt Walter's hand dragging her down before she realized the source.  Even as she cursed the explosion sounded behind her.  A moment later waves of heat washed over her back, followed by a showering of metal scrap and broken glass.  As soon as the grip on her arm loosened she was on her feet, ready to assess the damage and hopefully, the identity of their attacker.  She couldn't help the flicker of an ironic grin across her tight features when she realized only Jacob's "gift" was burning.

There was no time for question or instruction—the vampires were upon them, a pair she had never seen.  Walter stepped in front of her but the precaution proved unnecessary, as both sped past her without pause.  She turned just in time to see them shove the message-bearing soldier from a moment ago and dart inside.

"Filthy vampires—"  Integra scowled and gave chase, Jacob just ahead of her and Walter just behind.  Once inside there was only one vampire in sight: a blond, teenaged boy in boorish name-brand clothing.  He stood facing the trio in the center of the room as if having expected them all along."

"I don't see the other," Jacob said lowly, making a brief scan of the foyer.  "What are they doing here?"

"Sir Alucard?" Walter suggested, tugging at his gloves.

The vampire laughed.  "Actually, killers of vampires," he taunted with a smirk, "we're here for you."

As soon as all had vanished within the institute Celas abandoned her weapon and turned to depart; there was no use trying to hide Halconnen when she was certain Walter had recognized its work already.  Now there really was no going back.  When she felt she had gone far enough she lowered herself through the roof—and right into Ballerant's path.  Celas planted her feet instinctually at the impact, and both vampires were startled when the elder nearly bounced off her unbudging form.  Ballerant squawked ungracefully as he fell back onto his rear.

Celas grinned sheepishly.  "Um…sorry."

Ballerant blinked, yet stunned.  When she offered her hand, however, he was quick to use it in climbing to his feet.  "You're stronger than you look."

She started to reply, but was cut off by the report of a gun; the bullet struck her in the back, just between her shoulder blades.  She lurched forward—Ballerant caught her in his arms.  She couldn't move, and then abruptly she'd been pulled through the closest wall.  "Ba—"

"Celas, hold still," a voice hissed in her ear.  Ballerant was reaching for the wound in her back, but she forced strength into her limbs and tugged his hand away.

"I'm all right," she croaked, and was surprised by how true the words were.  She could feel the bullet lodged in her chest, just behind her sternum, but whatever pain she might have felt was lessened to a dull, tingling burn.  It might have hampered her breathing, but there was no need for that anyway.  With Ballerant's arm to lean on she had regained her strength and balance in a matter of moments.  "See?  I'm okay."

"Varjak uses blessed ammunition," Ballerant said with some concern.  "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Varjak?"  Celas's expression twisted in discontent, but she quickly brought herself back to more important matters.  "I'm fine.  If you can handle her—"

"Don't worry about me," he interrupted briskly.  "Go back for Garret, if you can."  Before she could thank him he darted outside the room once more and into a round of gunfire.

Celas followed and sprinted in the other direction, towards the front of the institute; she afforded only a brief smirk at the sound of Varjak's startled cry, the smack of a human body against stone.  She then turned her attention forward to the main hall that was opening up before her.  "Garret, please be okay…."

When Celas arrived the main hall was in disarray; soldiers had gathered with guns drawn but kept their distance, forming a broad circle around the two battling figures.  She easily recognized Garret and Jacob at the center; though Jacob sported a trio of scratched incisions along his left cheek he seemed no worse for it, and Garret's only injuries were a few bullet wounds that already seemed to have closed over.  The pair moved around each other and struck quickly, Jacob warding off the attacks of his enemy against his silver dagger, forcing him back.  Garret, who fought only with tooth and nail, could not close with him without risking a wound from silver, or the dagger that was aimed without falter at his heart.  As long as he attacked continuously, however, it kept the gunfire at bay.

Celas watched the exchange from a safe vantage atop the main stairway, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.  Though Garret might be able to hold out for some time as he was, sooner or later Integra would tire of her position on the sidelines.  Already Celas could see her loading a new clip—a clip of silver from the looks of it—into her handgun.  Walter was beginning to step forward as well, into the circle.  Garret noticed, and managed to turn so that Jacob stood between him and the new threats, but his advantage would not last much longer.

"I have to do something."  Celas ground her fingernails into her palms as she flashed over her few options.  She ran out of time when she saw Integra nod to her faithful servant.  Without any time left to debate she leapt from the rail, plummeting to the floor just in front of Walter as his arm swung.  She braced herself, and wasn't disappointed as the thin wire snapped around her arms, torso, and throat.  Her soft flesh was no barrier against the tightening metal, and she was certain it would have cut her in two if not for Walter's sudden realization of whom he'd snared.

"Celas!"

The first voice she heard was Garret's; though she couldn't see him she heard a sudden clash of flesh, and the vampire's choked cry.  Despite the fiery pain of the wire she squirmed, twisting to see Garret pinned on his back with a blade pressed to his throat and chest.  "Wait!" she croaked desperately.  Her head was spinning but she fought back, refusing to let her legs give out.  "Please, don't kill him!"

The wires began to loosen as Walter stared at her in disbelief—as did the surrounding soldiers.  Integra's face was unimpassioned.  "Don't let her go just yet," she instructed just as calmly as ever.  A few steps brought her just before the weakly struggling vampire.  "Agent Victoria.  You're late reporting in."

"Please, Lady Integra," Celas begged despite Garret's protests.  "I'm sorry I blew up your van, but please don't kill him.  We didn't come back to hurt anyone—"

"He's a vampire," Integra interrupted coldly, though her eyebrow was lifted.  "And he's fed tonight.  That's reason enough to kill him."

Celas went cold at those words, met with Integra's unblinking stare.  She…could tell.  Somehow, she knew what her subordinate had done.  And it might have meant that it was too late for her, too—at any moment she would signal for Walter to tighten his prison and slice her apart.  "Master…."  Her whispered plea caused Integra's expression to twist but she barely noticed.  "Please, you can't kill him!"

The still tension of the hall was pierced by the shrill cry of some animal as a dark cloud flooded across the ceiling.  Celas's hopes rose with the flutter of hundreds of leathery wings.  But on the edge of that commotion were the shouts of a woman, and a moment later Varjak appeared—bloodied, gasping—at the rail Celas had occupied a moment ago.  "Zimmerman!" she cried amidst the clamor of the darting black bats.  "It's one of Mephistos's—he's killed Sanfeld!"

Jacob wheeled, and in the distraction Garret pushed out from under his captor.  His freedom did not last long; Celas could only watch, stunned and without strength, as the scene unfolded before her.  It started with a shadow rising from the floor, a streak of black and crimson she well recognized.  Without pause or declaration one white gloved hand snatched Garret by the throat.  The other limb was nothing more than a stretch of shadow reaching towards the ceiling; a flash of white tore it jaggedly apart, into blazing eyes and gaping jaws.  Celas heard her own voice, then, a cry of wordless pleading as the mass of screeching, careening animals was engulfed and swiftly devoured.

The soldiers retreated a dozen paces each, wary of the creature returning to true form within their circle.  Celas's eyes were wide, unblinking, locked on the familiar turned back, the black leather strapping that had replaced red velvet.  "Ma…."  Shuddering, she tried to make sense of what had happened, as the vampire's arm returned to proper proportion.  "Master, you're…."

Alucard turned, spilling long tendrils of coarse black hair over his shoulders.  His eyes were deep and smoldering, as bright as ever she'd seen them.  There was no trace of scaring across his ivory flesh, no singed hair or shattered bone.  He was grinning—subtly, but very much like himself, and Celas nearly cried in relief.  It was the metal biting into her neck and the struggles of the captive Garret that brought her back to herself.  "Master…?"

"Alucard."  Despite the nervous fidgeting of her men Integra stood tall and proud.  "It's about time."  She smirked.  "I was beginning to worry."

Alucard returned the humor in her face with his own.  "Have you some order for me, Master?"

"Actually, yes."  Her expression hardened.  "Kill that vampire you're holding."

"Master—"  Celas began to protest, but by then it was already too late.  All it took was a flick of Alucard's wrist, a clench of his fingers, and white gloves sheared cleanly through Garret's throat.  She didn't even have the chance to meet the vampire's bright gaze once more when the light fled from his eyes, and his head lolled sickeningly like that of a broken doll.  It fell, and though Celas instinctually reached a strained, bloodied hand to catch it, the body disintegrated into ash long before it reached her.  Her palm felt only a fluttering brush of the vampire's remains before they dissolved further, until no particle was left to mark his passing.

Celas couldn't move.  With Alucard towering over her, his face calm and pitiless, she didn't know what to think.  She had come back seeking approval and acceptance from her master, but by his eyes he held no sympathy even for her as she bled across the floor.  Garret and Ballerant dead…and Integra, standing patiently beside her, preparing to order a third sacrifice.  To call for her death at the hands of her own master.

"No…no!"  When faced with the end Celas made her choice: whether or not Integra demanded her eradication, whether or not Alucard would fight for her as he had Lorenna, she feared the answers two greatly to allow them to be played out.  Only…she couldn't risk losing Alucard to his prison.  No matter  what order he received next she cold not see him bend to it.

Celas twisted her arm, winding Walter's metal wire around her wrist and palm.  With all her strength and a choked cry she pulled; her flesh was torn but she gave no heed as the elder man was dragged across the main hall to her.  Under her guidance he struck Integra hard, sending her tumbling.  The loaded handgun was wrenched from her grasp with the impact.  It took a mere stretch of Celas's hand to retrieve the weapon, and though her fingers were numb she secured them around its handle, making it slick with her blood.

"It's all _your_ fault!"  Celas leveled the weapon at Integra as the woman returned to her feet and fell still.  She was shaking, crying what didn't feel like tears, but she was determined and her aim didn't waver.  "It's because of you—because you're holding Alucard prisoner!"

Another pair of wires snapped around her arms and wrists.  "Agent Victoria," Walter said, his voice a patient tone as if beside her.  " Please, calm down."

"No!  I won't!"  Her hand trembled as she met Integra's icy stare.  All around the soldiers were raising their guns—hesitant, confused, but loyal to their commander.  Celas couldn't bring herself to look at any of them.  And when the wire around her wrist began to tug the sights of her weapon she clenched her teeth and dragged it back, even as the metal cut to the bone.  "I'm…I'm sorry.  But Garret—Alucard—!"

Integra didn't speak, but her eyes narrowed, as if daring her.  Somewhere out of sight, Alucard's warm chuckle swelled to fill the hall.  The sound of it caused Celas to shake.  "Come now, police girl.  What do you think you can do?"  He took a single step toward her.  "If have always—"

"No!"  Celas's finger clenched around the trigger, firing several shots at their yet silent target.  Integra didn't flinch as the bullets struck towards her, and were with a dull, wet impact imbedded in the cold flesh of Alucard's outstretched forearm.  Celas scarcely had time to comprehend what had happened when the vampire's dark form swept over her.  His white gloves cut through wire and steel, shredding the handgun and freeing her from captivity.  She fell ungracefully to the floor, and even as she struggled to stand she found herself on her feet once more, bound against cool leather.  "Ma…Mast…."

"It's all right, Celas," Alucard's low voice murmured.  She felt it rumble from his chest, and as his arm tightened around her shoulders all the strength she'd been saving fled from her.  His other arm he stretched to the side, so that it fell from his body in a stained heap, along with the silver that had begun to contaminate it.  "It's over, now.  All of it."

Celas trembled, and with a quiet sob she fell into Alucard's care, crying against his stronger form.  "I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely.  "Master, I'm sorry—I should have—I didn't mean for any of this."

"I know.  And it's all right."  His newly formed, gloved hand rose to stroke the top of her hair, a show of affection that would have made her wilt if not for the strong arm against her shoulders.  And though it still hurt—Garret and Ballerant, both lost—she was safely home, a reassurance that stole her fears away.  Her master was welcoming her home.


	11. Epilogue

Moonlit Midnight 

Epilogue

Integra watched the scene with a quiet sigh of relief; both of her officers had been returned.  Looking at Alucard now, as proud as ever but oddly compassionate, she almost couldn't imagine how such a king had come to betray her.  Despite her better judgment she felt assured that he was, indeed, still hers.

"It seems to have ended well," Walter remarked quietly beside her, watching Celas with blatant relief of his own.

"Yes, it does."  She frowned.  "Though not without casualties."

Sometime after the matter's conclusion Jacob had slipped away; she could see him speaking to Varjak on the upper stairs.  He glanced at Integra only once, and his eyes were sharp, as if accusing. They were even more so when they found Celas.  He then departed with several of his soldiers in tow, leaving a pair to tend to his wounded officer.

"So…Sanfeld is dead," Integra mumbled.  She took a step forward.  "Victoria.  Are there any other vampires here?"

Celas, who did her best to wipe her face before replying, shook her head weakly.  "It was only the three of us, Ma'am.  One was…from the countryside, and the other was the last of Lo…of Mephistos's."

"You'll be punished for this, you know."

Celas lowered her head.  "Yes…I know."  She curled a bit closer to Alucard.  "I'll accept it."

Integra nodded shortly, then signaled to her men that they were free to depart.  "Look after her, Walter," she instructed.  "Make sure she's well fed and confined, and have the courtyard cleaned up.  I'm going to confirm what Varjak said."

"Yes, M'Lady."

Integra climbed the stairs as Alucard surrendered his vampire to Walter's care, her attention rising to the limping form of the woman above.  As soon as Varjak laid eyes on her she hissed a curse.  "You worthless shit.  Aren't you going to kill her?  She's a fucking vampire—they killed our commander!"  She moved as if to strike the woman, but the soldiers aiding her—and what appeared to be a broken arm—easily halted her.

"Hellsing is deeply sorry for the loss of your officer," Integra calmly replied as she brushed past.

"Goddamn bitch—you ignorant little slut!"

Though she was tempted to respond, her principles prevented her from striking an injured child.  With the consolation that Varjak would not be among them for long she continued down the corridor, following a collection voices to where the man had fallen.  Her mood sobered at the sight of Jacob kneeling beside his former commander; Mark Sanfeld's throat had been torn out.

"He was a good man," Jacob murmured, aiding the soldiers as they began to zip the body into a long, black bag.  "He hated me, of course, and I can't say I liked him, either, but he killed vampires."  He pushed slowly to his feet as the job was finished.  "The vampires responsible have been disposed of?"

"Yes."  Integra took a careful step closer to him.  "It was only the two.  I'm sorry, Jacob, for your loss."

Jacob continued to stare down at the concealed corpse as if he hadn't heard her last remark.  "And your agent?"

"She is safely back in our care," Integra replied evenly.

"I see."  A short paused followed.  "You will do nothing, then."

She had expected such from him, and in truth could not blame him for it.  "I am sorry," she repeated, "but she is an officer under my responsibility, and I will deal with her as I see fit."

Jacob's eyes thinned.  "I see."  He nodded to his men, who lifted the body between them and began to depart.  It was a long moment before Jacob spoke again.  "We're leaving, Integra," he said quietly, but with all the firm authority she'd ever heard in him. "I'm taking my men home, and I can't say we'll be back."

"I know."  Integra felt a certain weight swell in her gut as she watched his stern profile.  For all that she had resented and rejected this man he was, for better or worse, one of her oldest and most trusted friends.  She knew better than to think he could ever vanish from her life completely, but there was a bitter taste at the back of her throat as she stepped back, away from him.

Despite his declarations Jacob was still for several long moments, pretending that she wasn't there beside him.  They were silent until he took the first step; Integra said nothing as he wordlessly followed his men away from the stains of drying blood.  Integra's quiet sigh chased the clap of his footsteps down the hall.

A short hour later preparations of Mithril 6 were completed, and its soldiers were eager to depart.  The officers of their sister institute were present to send them off despite some remaining tensions between the two groups.  And none more so than between their leaders as they faced each other to bid their farewells.  Jacob had recovered somewhat from his shock of the night's earlier events, but his manner was still subdued, his fingers stiff.  It was ironic that now, when so much responsibility had been forced upon him, he would most remind her of the boy she'd known so long ago.  It made her smile subtly as she greeted her ancient friend.  "Jacob."

"Integra." He faced her, but she could see that some of the light had faded from behind his eyes.  She couldn't help but wonder if he had truly abandoned his pursuit of her.  "I'm sorry for the trouble we've caused."

"We've had worse," she replied easily enough.  She offered her hand, as it seemed like the most he would allow.

Jacob considered a moment and at last slid his hand around hers.  "Take care."

"And you too."

He began to withdraw, but when Integra saw his turned back her voice leapt in one last attempt to close that unfamiliar gap between them.  "I'll keep in touch."

Jacob paused in his gait and glanced back.  At first it looked as if he would continue on without comment; but to Integra's relief a grin spread across his face, and he opened his arms in subtle invitation.  With a roll of her eyes meant in jest she took the extra steps to return the friendly embrace.  He chuckled quietly with the same elation she felt.  "I'll look forward to it."

A thin smile flickered briefly over Integra's face as she pulled back.  She was satisfied, and he seemed to be as well.  Even if things did not return to how they had been, they had settled, more or less, in their friendship.  It was all she could hope for.  As she retreated, as the vehicles began to pull away, she felt a familiar presence beside her.  She would never admit how much the return of that consistency pleased her.  "Do you think I made the right choice?"

Alucard, by now clad once more in his usual, red-coated attire, chuckled ironically.  "You're the master; I have no right to question you."

Integra's lip curled despite herself.  "I can't believe that after all that you haven't changed.  And to think I almost considered sealing you away like my father did."

"I think you'd miss me."

For the first time in what felt like weeks Integra chuckled openly.  But rather than respond she changed the subject.  "How is Agent Victoria?"

"Adjusting," Alucard replied evasively.  "I'll look after her well enough, don't worry.  She's still one of yours."

"Good."  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.  "And you?"  Her expression hardened.  "This kind of incident can never recur.  I will not be lenient a second time."

The vampire smirked as he raised his gaze to the west, where a pale moon was beginning to set.  "Let's just say I've gotten it out of my system.  You won't have to worry about me any more, Integra."

"Who said I was worrying?"

The two shared a glance—hers stoic and his humorous—and then with an amused chuckle Alucard stepped back into shadow and vanished.  Integra's gaze remained on the spot he had formerly occupied only briefly before she, too, turned to depart.  Walter met her at Hellsing's grand doors, and together they returned to the institute's interior.

Far above, sitting perched on the edge of Hellsing's battalion, Celas watched the whole scene transpire.  She couldn't hear any of the words exchanged but she was almost glad for that, as she already had enough on her mind.  She wrapped her arms around herself against the night's cold chill.  Good for them—they had all reconciled, and she still had so few answers.

"Aren't you supposed to be restricted to your room?"

Celas jumped, twisting to see the form that had appeared so suddenly behind her.  "Master!"  She gulped.  "I…I'm sorry, I was just…" She turned back.  "…uneasy."

She heard Alucard step forward, followed by a ruffle of fabric, and to her surprise his thick red coat fell heavily across her shoulders.  It was warm and the material softer than it looked; she tugged it hesitantly tighter around her.  "Master…?"

Alucard took a seat beside her; she snuck a few glances at him shyly.  He didn't seem to be upset with her, but she was still uncertain.  She couldn't see his eyes behind his tinted glasses, but he was smiling faintly as he reached into his shirt cuff.  To the officer's surprise he pulled free a small black bat and let it hang, squeaking quietly, from his index finger.  "This," he told her evenly, "is all that remains of the vampire Ballerant."

"Ballerant?" Celas echoed incredulously.  She peered at the small animal very closely, its tiny, lazy movements.  It almost seemed to watch her.  "He's…alive?"

"In a manner of sorts."  He shook the finger slightly and smiled in amusement at the bat's annoyed chirping.  "He has lost most of his power; he probably doesn't even remember his name.  With time, he may regain himself.  A year, a decade—he was a powerful vampire once, and he will be again someday."

"He's…he's alive," Celas whispered wondrously, reaching out.  She hesitated before she could touch it.  "Ballerant…" A short bark of laughter escaped her, and she shivered, as if on the edge of tears.  "But why?"

"Because he was one of Lorenna's," Alucard explained.  "It's against my nature, you know, but Lorenna was a noble vampire who did much for our people in America.  Those vampires will need guidance."  He tilted his head back slightly.  "More importantly, he kept his word to me."

Celas stared at him, somewhat baffled by what she was hearing.  Alucard had never spoken about vampires in such a way.  "Our people…."  She remembered suddenly how much Ballerant had looked after her, the things he'd taught her—what Garret had taught her.  "Garret—what about Garret?"

"The other vampire?  He is gone."  His voice deepened slightly, not with anything resembling regret, but…something different.  "Not even I can refuse a direct order from my master."

Celas bit her lip, but she tried not to let her disappointment hold her for too long.  She was grateful for all Garret had done for her, but it was too late to feel guilty about involving him now.  When she started to speak once more Alucard lifted his hand, and she paused, waiting for him.

"Killing Sanfeld will be a small help to them," he said thoughtfully.  "Zimmerman will inherit the institute, taking him off of active duty on the streets.  There is no agent that can take his place in terms of skill, because of what he is.  As long as they can keep ahead of Zimmerman's planning, one by one vampires will be spared."

He jerked his hand, and with a flap of leather the bat—Ballerant—fluttered off into the night.  Celas watched until it was nothing more than a dark speck.  At least one of them had been saved.  But as she returned her gaze to Alucard she was filled with questions one more, and she licked her lips nervously.  "Um…Master?"

Alucard turned to face her curiously.  "Yes?"

"Um…I…."  She hesitated, unsure of where she could possibly being.  In the end she hadn't expected the question that sprang from her first.  "Did you really love Lorenna?  I know you said I didn't understand, but I'm a real vampire, now, so…I thought…."

Alucard regarded her with great interest, even taking off his glasses.  "Is that so?"  There was something in his tone, however, that indicated he already know everything he might have told him.

"Well…."  Celas shifted, feeling suddenly restless beneath Alucard's bright eyes.  "Yes.  If Integra finds out I'll be in trouble—I didn't want to, but I was so thirsty—but I—"

Alucard blinked slowly.  "You'll just be more careful next time."

She released a quiet sigh of relief.  Alucard wasn't mad—he may have even been proud of her, judging by the gleam in his eyes.  Sitting up a little taller—and pulling Alucard's coat more tightly around her—she returned to her former concern.  "Okay.  So…did you?"

The old vampire chuckled at her expectant features.  "When you grow as old as I am," he said lightly, "you'll come to understand that humans have different ways of thinking than we do."  He turned his head to stare out over the courtyard, to the last sliver of the moon over the trees once more.  His expression was almost wistful.  "Lorenna was the last vampire I changed before I cam to Hellsing.  I can't say I loved her as humans love, but I was fond of her.  She will always be one of mine."

Celas ducked her head, inordinately pleased.  "Like…me?" she asked sheepishly.

Alucard's laughter was warm, and it filled her with tingling pride.  "Yes, Celas, like you.  You'll always be one of mine."

Celas hummed happily to herself, hoping the blush in her cheeks went unnoticed in the dark.  And just when she thought she couldn't be more satisfied and content an idea came to her, one that made her quiver in excitement and uncertainty.  "Master…."  Slowly her posture straightened; she had grown up so much already, she felt she was ready to know the rest—to be the kind of vampire Alucard wanted her to be.

"Yes?"  Detecting her hesitation he watched her patiently.

"I want…I mean, would it be okay if…will you ever offer your blood to me again?" she asked timidly.

Genuinely surprised by the request, Alucard regarded her evenly; only his eyes displayed his interest.  "Do you understand what it will do to you?"

Celas nodded anxiously.  "I do…I think."  She gathered her courage and tried again.  "It will make me a better vampire.  And…even if you won't really be  my master anymore, I'll still be yours."  She wriggled a little closer.  "Please?  I want to be strong, like…the others were."

Alucard's vibrant eyes thinned slightly, and a slow grin parted his lips over his pointed fangs.  "Very well."  And with no more spoken between them he tilted his head, sweeping his coarse hair away from the smooth, pale flesh of his throat.

Celas licked her lips, tracing the form of her teeth.  She was about to learn at last what it really meant to be a vampire.  Cradled  by the silver moonlight and castle shadows these were her last thoughts as she leaned in, shivering, to taste the first drops of her master's blood.

[ah, that's it!  Thanks to everyone that followed the story this far—I really appreciate all your reviews.  If any of you are at Anime Central 2003 look for me, I'll be dressed as Celas.  If you come say hi I might even have a treat for you ^_~

Oh, and there may be a sequel, but probably not for a while…]


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